Stuck On a Puzzle
by Rose Wazlib
Summary: They were not friends and they never would be. There was no sense in arguing with herself on that point. Friendship, however, was a frivolous thing when it came to life and death. Whatever distaste they had for each other, she decided, mattered little in the face of the war that seemed to be rushing to meet them.
1. Stuck On a Puzzle

_18/08/16_

* * *

 ** _Stuck On a Puzzle  
_** _I have been searching from  
The bottom to the top for such a sight  
As the one I caught when I saw your  
Fingers dimming the light  
Like you're used to being told that you're trouble  
And I spent all night stuck on a puzzle_

* * *

 _He could see her stirring feebly, her hunched figure only a silhouette to him in the dim moon light, the stench of blood choking him and the pain of his torn flesh rippling through his broken body._

 _Unable to stand and with one hand clutched over his wound in a wishful attempt to quell the bleeding, he dug his elbow into the soft earth to edge himself forwards, swallowing the grunts of pain that hit his lips as he struggled towards her. The wet grass beneath him soaked through his robes, with blood or water he was unsure._

 _She was mere feet from him but he could not see her face, her head against the earth, her body still shuddering even now. He breathed her name but she gave no sign of hearing._

 _If he could only reach her before she fell still; if only he had not been such a fool and had stopped it when the chance was still there; if he only had his wand, and had not lost it in the fray; if only someone would come for them, find them in the ruin, promise him she would be safe just as he had once promised, and then he could allow himself to die._

* * *

He arrived with a twirl of his cloak, staggering from the apparation, straightening hurriedly and storming down the empty corridor without pause. He was late again, and he knew it incensed his master, but what alternative was there when he had been preoccupied with work so crucial to their cause?

By the time he reached the manor's top storey he was panting for breath, and his brisk pace slowed ever so slightly as he started down the long corridor to his master's chambers.

'You're late, Goyle.'

Ire quickly surmounted his anxiety at the sound of the drawling voice, and he swivelled to face its owner. There, concealed in the shadows at the mouth of an adjoining corridor, was the thin, pointed, loathsome face, more lined now than he remembered.

'I had business to attend to,' he snarled back and to his dismay he saw a smile creep across the face of the tall man before him. 'And what are you doing dawdling out here when our master has requested our presence?'

'My tardiness is due to work I was carrying out at the request of our master, Goyle,' the man replied. 'I doubt you can say the same for yourself.'

'For your information I had my own work to do for our master,' he bit back. 'I have a message for him.'

'Then I suggest you quicken your pace,' the smirking lips told him. 'If the news you carry is as important as you seem to believe then I am sure our master would view your time-wasting as a great discourtesy.'

His anger roared in his ears, choking his throat and clogging his lips of any retort; he stood in seething silence as the man, smiling his loathsome smile, slithered out of the shadows and started down the corridor towards their master's chambers, striding with that regal air he had detested as long as he could recall. Goyle hurried after him, his eyes fixed on the back of the man's head of thinning silver hair, gleaming under the torchlight.

The two old allies rounded the corridor's turn, Goyle struggling to match his companion's brisk strides, before they reached the heavy oak doors that sent a pang of apprehension coursing through him. He cleared his throat, straightening himself up to his fullest height, knowing that the man beside him did not share in this anxiety as he raised a pale hand to rap on polished oak.

No noise from within the chambers reached them as they waited before the door was wrenched open before them and they were met by the familiar sallow face who gazed up at them coolly before barking over his shoulder, 'Malfoy and Goyle have arrived, my Lord.'

'Ah, at last,' came the deep, cool voice from within the depths of the dark room. 'Step aside, Nott. Come in, my friends. Pour yourself a drink.'

Nott obeyed the order and Malfoy strode forward with all the power of a lord, leaving Goyle to hurry in after him, Nott locking the door after them with a hoarse incantation.

The room was occupied by the usual faces, each of them aligned in their allocated seats around the black mahogany table nursing goblets of mead and, as always, he was swamped by the unwelcome memory of his Hogwarts days by the familiar watchfulness of his ex-school mates eyes. He took his seat at the end of the table, farthest of the lot of them from his master, and reached for the decanter in the centre of the table, pouring himself a generous goblet of mead, drinking deeply.

'My Lord,' came Malfoy's drawling voice, as he himself took his seat beside their master, 'you must excuse our lateness. Goyle fancied himself some small talk on the way to join you.'

The rage surfaced within him and he opened his mouth to protest before he heard his master give a low chuckle that soon spread around the table.

'Now, Malfoy, lateness is of no matter when Goyle has taken such a risk for me as he did tonight,' their master told him calmly. 'What news do you bring, Goyle?'

Under his master's unwavering gaze Goyle felt a pang of apprehension in his chest but he forced himself to meet his master's gaze and, in a voice ringing with firmness that surprised himself, he hissed, 'The Aurors arrived before we could even enter the grounds, my Lord.'

The silence amongst them was thick enough to cut and while Goyle could feel his fellows' eyes watching him and knew Malfoy's scowl was fixed upon him, he did not break his master's gaze, and waited for the man to give a slow now and say in his ever-calm voice, 'Thank you for this information, Goyle.'

'The protective charms around the school are far greater than we anticipated, my Lord,' insisted Goyle, struggling to keep the urgency from his voice. 'There was nothing we could have done-'

The words died on his tongue as his master raised a pale hand, signalling for silence. 'I understand, Goyle. It is of no matter.'

'N-no matter?' repeated Goyle in bewilderment, gazing at his master in disbelief. 'But, my Lord…'

'Hogwarts will come into our grasp in time,' his master assured them calmly. 'What is important is that the Aurors were preoccupied.'

Each other occupants of the table, spare for Malfoy, who wore the same look of contemplative satisfaction as their master, appeared to share in Goyle's astonishment.

'You weren't recognised, were you, Goyle?' inquired his master.

'N-no, my Lord.'

'Very good.'

Goyle's mind ticked over, fighting to understand, before he spluttered out, 'My Lord, if… if I may ask…'

'Ask away, Goyle. I would not deny you answers after the risk you took tonight.'

'Thank you, my Lord,' stammered Goyle. 'Only I don't understand. Urquhart and Flint have been captured… The Aurors know their history. They will have no trouble getting the Wizengamot's approval for administering Veritaserum. If they were to name any of us…'

To Goyle's surprise he saw his master give a wry smile before he emitted a soft, slow sigh. 'It is regrettable, yes. But you can rest easy - I'm afraid Urquhart and Flint will have no opportunity to name us. The Wizengamot will not convene until the morning and the hemlock essence you consumed before embarking this evening will take its effect long before then.'

A chill crept sprung within his chest and his head spun with panic. He made to stand. 'Hemlock?'

'Goyle, Goyle, calm yourself,' said his master, raising a steadying hand. 'You have nothing to fear. Drink up your mead. It has the antidote. How cruel do you believe me to be?'

His heart pulsing in his chest, he lowered himself back into his chair and snatched up his goblet with a shaking hand, draining it of mead. From across the table he heard Malfoy emit a murmur that sounded suspiciously close to laughter.

'You must forgive my deception, Goyle,' his master told him as he drank. 'I'll have you know I do not have a habit of poisoning my fellows when I offer them a drink but I had to face the truth of the matter; that is was likely not all of you would return to me this evening. Tell me, Goyle; did you see Harry Potter?'

The name spurred a chorus of hisses and jeers from around the table but Goyle could not bring himself to contribute. He set his goblet down heavily on the mahogany table and poured himself another helping of mead, his chest still pounding.

'Yes,' he said, recapping the decanter with a trembling hand. 'It was him who got Urquhart.'

Another round of jeers sounded around the table but they died away when their master raised a hand once more to call for silence. 'That is good,' his master informed them. 'Very good. We need to Auror department preoccupied as long as possible. You have bought us at least until the morning. I believe a toast is in order.' Goyle watched as his master's pale fingers closed around his own goblet and raised it into the air; around the table the men followed suit. 'To Gregory Goyle – a brave man. And of course Marcus Flint and Eustace Urquhart, who served the Dark Arts justly and faithfully. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten.'

There was a rustling of cloaks as goblets were raised to lips. Their master waited patiently for his servants to place their goblets back on the table before he spoke again. 'And now, Malfoy, please do tell. Was your mission tonight successful?'

Malfoy met his master's unwavering gaze and said in a voice that he seemed to intend only to reach their master, 'Yes, it was.'

The dim torchlight flickered across their master's face, creating the illusion of movement though the man was statue still as he gazed back at Malfoy. Several seconds that felt like an eternity passed before the man's lips twisted into a smile. 'Well done, my friend.'

In the dim light Malfoy seemed to radiate with joy that the other men did not understand. 'Thank you, my Lord.'

Their master turned back to the table to address the group at large and when he spoke again his voice seemed to prickle with excitement. 'Tonight we have taken perhaps our greatest leap forward yet. My friends, drink with me. Gamp is dead.'

The cheers that erupted around the table were almost deafening. Goblets were thrust into the air, grunts of glee and jest were shouted amongst the men, and, to Goyle's disgust, Malfoy nodded serenely at the praise thrown his way.

'Our next move in crucial,' their master informed them over the subsiding babble. He turned to the man sitting to his left and said coolly, 'And now you must be ready.'

'Of course, my Lord,' the man assured him gleefully from across the table. 'I promise you, the moment the Minister is within my reach…'

'I'm afraid that won't be necessary.'

The man's grin faltered in an instant. 'My Lord?'

'We each have imperative roles to play and we cannot risk you gaining too much attention too soon. I have another plan for Kingsley Shacklebolt.'

'You have another servant in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?' asked Nott eagerly.

'I have servants in all the necessary nooks, Nott.'

'And Hogwarts?' asked Goyle before he could stop himself.

His master gave a smile. 'Goyle, you must forgive my misdemeanour but if I had wanted Hogwarts penetrated this evening it would have been, but it is my belief that we do not currently need the school.'

'May I make a suggestion, my Lord?' began Malfoy.

'Of course, Malfoy.'

'You are aware that many amongst us have children returning to the school tomorrow. Should it be suggested to them that you require assistance…'

'That is a fine offer, Malfoy,' said his master. 'And I am sure the sons and daughters of each of you will make valuable servants to the Dark Lord, but I must ask you to forget Hogwarts for the time.'

Malfoy gave a curt nod, his grey eyes fixed upon his master, before he spoke again, now with a definite tone of urgency in his voice. 'My Lord, excuse my curiosity, but I am wondering.'

'Wonder away, my friend. I believe you have earned it.'

Malfoy gave twisted smile. 'I cannot help but wonder what are we to do with Harry Potter?'

Heads whipped towards their master to gauge his reaction, but the man's face was as unreadable as ever before he gave a dry smile. 'Ah, Malfoy, will your vendetta against that man ever end?'

Goyle gave a snort of laughter but his master's gaze did not shift from Malfoy, who was no longer smiling.

'Do not concern yourself with Potter, Malfoy,' their master informed him. 'There is much to come in the next few months, and I do not want you thinking of that man. He is getting old – he is tired. He is not of our concern for this moment. There are far greater things in our futures. But you have my assurance, Malfoy, as I believe you deserve it; Harry Potter will die, and your master will rise once more.'

* * *

Albus Potter woke to a feeling somewhere between dread and excitement before he recalled the promise he had made to himself the previous evening.

He gave a heaving groan and shifted into his side. The alarm clock on his beside table read quarter past seven, promising another fifteen minutes before his mother would arrive to drag him from bed, and so he reached for the leather-bound notebook that lay resting beside the alarm clock. He lay it on the pillow beside him and flipped to the appropriate page, scanning the notes he had scribbled out by moonlight, before he reached for the quill that lay on his bedside table and made a scribbled entry.

 _1st September 2021_

 _First day back at school. Wish me luck or kill me. I'm not sure which._

He tossed the quill aside and pulled himself from his dismally single bed that his mother would not trust him transfigure into a double and crossed to the foot of his dresser where his trunk was waiting for his departure later that morning. Stowing his journal into the hidden compartment he had added beneath the trunk's lid, he collected his preselected clothing from his dresser for the train trip before leaving his bedroom.

Hecate Hall was silent as he passed beneath the stained glass windows towards the bathroom, his siblings still dozing; however, once he was showered and dressed, the building was rife with the usual array of sounds that emerged each year on September first.

Footsteps stormed up and down corridor of the house's upper level and voices rang from outside the bathroom door. He lingered beneath the mirror, spending more time that he typically would trying to flatten his mess of ebony hair.

'Mum, I can't find my cardigan!'

'Which cardigan, Lily? You have thousands-'

'The green one!'

'Which green one?' He could hear his mother ask over the thundering footsteps of his brother storming up the passageway to meet them.

'The green one! With the cable knit-'

'Oi, Ginny, where's the broom polish?'

'What?'

'The broom polish. The polish for brooms.'

'Oh, for god's sake, James, it's where it always is. In the shed on the shelf above the dragon manure-'

'Yes, mother, I looked there. I do live in this house too, you know-'

'Mum!'

'Lily, stop yelling! It will be around here somewhere - and James, don't just stand there staring at me. If it's not in the shed I have no idea.'

His brother gave a heaving groan and his stomping footsteps began again, drowning out the sound of his sister's and mother's bickering, and an instant later the bathroom door was wrenched open.

'Al, where's the - are you doing your hair?'

Under scrutiny of his brother's delighted brown eyes, Albus whipped his hand away from his unruly fringe. 'No.'

'Don't worry, you look very pretty. Where's the broom polish?'

'How should I know?'

'Because you had it last.'

'No, I didn't.'

'Yes, you did. I saw your dismal attempt of trying to mount dad's broom the other day. Slipped right off into the mud, didn't you?'

'I did not!'

'Yes, you did. Finlay and I were watching from the window. It was bloody hilarious. So where's the broom polish?'

'I told you, I don't know.'

James gave a sigh of annoyance. 'Fine, but if I can't find it you're buying a new bottle.' And he turned on his heel before Albus could conjure a retort and strode back down the passageway to hurry down the stairs and a moment later Albus heard the back door slam shut as James headed out into the yard to scout for the broom polish.

Scowling through his blushing cheeks, Albus gave himself one final forlorn look in the bathroom mirror, before he himself left the bathroom and trudged down the passageway to the staircase, the rising voices of his mother and sister growing muffled as he headed into the kitchen.

The fire crackled in the hearth and beside it sat the kitchen table, at which he found the hunched figure of his father, slumped forward in the chair closest to the flame, adorned in the heavy cloak he donned on raids and nursing a steaming cup of tea in his calloused hands. His father turned tired eyes towards him at the sound of footsteps and croaked out a dreary, 'Morning, Al.'

'Morning,' Albus replied, taking a seat across from the man. 'When did you get home?'

'While you were in the shower.'

'Want some oats?' asked Albus as he poured himself a bowl.

His father declined with a wave of his hand and a peaky smile and sipped his tea in silence while he watched his son eat.

The voices from the house's upper level had now reached the level of yelling, and to cover the sound Albus asked his father, 'Where were you last night?'

'Just surveillance. Nothing important,' his father told him, as was his response whenever any of his children inquired about his work. 'You all packed?'

'I think so.'

'Looking forward to getting back?'

Albus shrugged. 'I suppose.'

'You suppose?'

Albus gave another shrug. 'James says fifth year is really hard.'

'You'll manage, Al. Don't listen to James.'

Albus nodded and gazed down at the soggy mess of oats. He no longer felt hungry in the slightest.

Before his father could make any more inquiries, the sound of thundering footsteps started down the staircase before Lily burst into the kitchen, followed closely by their scowling mother.

'For Merlin's sake, Lily, would you calm down?' Ginny snapped at the redhead.

'Hello, darling,' Harry said to his daughter, who had crossed to the stove top to set the kettle to boil without a glance towards the kitchen table.

'I can't leave without that cardigan! I'm going to have to change my entire outfit now!' moaned Lily.

'Then go change if it matters so much to you,' Ginny growled back, hands on her hips, before glancing across to her husband and asking briskly, 'When did you get back?'

'Just now. How are you?'

'Have you eaten?'

'No, I'm fine.'

Ginny let out a huff of frustration and jabbed out her wand in the direction of he kitchen cabinet, from which a bowl flew and landed neatly on the table before Harry and was then filled to the brim with oats by the levitating carton.

'Really, I'm not hungry-'

'You've been out all night: eat,' Ginny instructed of him. 'And Lily, if you think you're leaving this house with nothing but tea for breakfast...'

'Fine, I'll stay here then!' barked Lily. 'That was my favourite cardigan, Mum!'

'Could you stop yelling at me, please? I don't know why I'm to blame for your cardigan disappearing-'

'Because you had it last! I put it in the laundry and now it's gone!'

'Well, perhaps if you did your own washing for once you'd know where it was.'

Lily gaped at her mother, mortified, before she flew to the door of the passageway, only to collide with James who had returned from the garden looking sullen.

'Oi, watch it-'

'Move, James!' Lily snarled at him, and she pushed past her eldest brother and disappeared up the passageway, leaving the sound of stomping footsteps in her wake.

James glanced back at the remaining occupants of the kitchen. 'What's up with her?'

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to the stove to tend to the kettle that Lily had abandoned. 'Your sister has lost her cardigan,' Ginny informed James curtly, and received a bellowed, 'I didn't lose it, you did!' from down the passageway.

'Oh, the humanity,' sighed James, crossing to the table to join his brother and father. 'Well, Al, the broom polish has vanished so that will be three galleons please.'

'That's not fair!' snapped Albus.

'Why is Albus reimbursing you for the broom polish?' asked Ginny shrewdly.

'Because in his state of heartbreak he's misplaced it and is too depressed to remember where it is.'

'No, I didn't!'

'For god's sake, James, why would Albus know where the broom polish is? He doesn't even fly,' growled Ginny.

'I do some times,' grumbled Albus.

'You do not. You slip off as soon as you're airborne,' James dismissed, slicing off two pieces of bread from the loaf with a couple of flicks of his wand.

'You're such a prat, James.'

'And you're a virgin and three galleons in debt, Ducky.'

'There's a new bottle of polish in the study,' intervened their father quickly before a red-faced Albus could snap back.

James looked up, his wand poised over his plate as he toasted his bread. 'Really?'

Harry nodded. 'Take it if you like.'

James gave a dramatic roll of his eyes and got to his feet. 'Well now you tell me.'

Stifling a sigh, Harry watched as his eldest son pushed his chair back and disappeared up the passageway before turning back to pick half-heartedly at his bowl of oats. Ginny joined them at the table, a cup of tea in hand, scowling at the half-toasted bread on James's deserted plate. 'Why does nobody eat in this family?'

'You know how he gets when he's going back to school,' Harry reminded her gently.

'He's seventeen years old. He could at least put his own dishes in the sink.'

As if in response, Albus got to his feet and collected his half-eaten bowl of oats and James's plate from the table, crossing to the kitchen bin and scraping away the remains.

'Thank you, Ducky,' sighed Ginny, as Albus set about washing the dishes.

Wincing at the pet name his mother refused to let die, he assured her it was nothing and continued with the dishes.

'You look awful,' he heard his mother inform his father over his shoulder.

'Thank you.'

'I thought you said you'd be back by one.'

'Supposedly I was going to be but we got called out to...' Harry caught himself, pausing for what Albus knew was a moment to design a censored account of the evening for his son's ears. 'There was a mix-up in the office...'

Albus set the dishes on the drying rack and departed from the kitchen to allow his parents to talk freely, having no desire to listen to his father's abridged version of events, and trudged through the house out into the backyard to the family's makeshift owlery, wondering how much time he would sacrifice trying to coax his barn owl into her cage and wishing, rather anxiously, he was already on the train with his cousin bound for Hogwarts.

* * *

Although she would never admit to anyone, Rose Weasley had a habit of inspecting her body in the mirror before she dressed. Too many freckles and too many bones. Although the previous year had at least seen her grow somewhat into her lanky limbs that were all too thin for a fifteen year old, her legs were too long and her chest too flat.

'But it doesn't matter!' her best friend assured her whenever the conversation approached the topic of breast size. 'You're so pretty!'

The lie was a kind one and she appreciated it, even if she would never allow that to become apparent.

She retrieved her hairbrush from her beside table and tended to her long, crimson curls, watching the girl in her mirror and listening to the familiar, frantic noises in the house's lower floors as her parents and brother performed their scrambled morning routine.

Setting down the hairbrush she crossed to her dresser and pulled out clothes for the day, dressing as slowly as she would dare before her mother would venture to the terrace's third floor to find what was keeping her daughter. Pulling on her sweater, her eyes came to rest on the crimson and gold badge laying waiting on her dressing. She reached for it and gave it another of the frequent examinations she had performed that summer; she was almost surprised her frequent thumbing had not yet begun to wear away at it.

She had not wanted it and yet she had received it; she had known she would, and as arrogant as knew she was she couldn't help but wish it had been bestowed on another girl.

With one last fleeting look in her mirror she moved to retrieve her luggage, stowing the badge deep within the depths of her satchel.

* * *

By the age of fifteen, Albus had mastered the art of keeping out of people's way.

'Do you ever get a word in?' his first and only girlfriend had asked him in an undertone when he had her over for dinner at the beginning of the summer; he had given her one of his mumbled excuses, and continued through the dinner largely separate from the conversation held between his family and their guest.

Throughout the car ride to London in which Lily threw out accusations concerning the whereabouts of her cardigan that went largely ignored and James and their parents once again started up their heated discussion as to how exactly finishing his NEWTs served in James's best interest, Albus tried his best to keep his attention focused on the bristling green countryside that rolled by the window. His mind was full of his looming Ordinary Wizarding Levels and the prospect of implementing the plan he had devised the previous evening, and though he attempted heartily to rally himself into excitement, he arrived at King's Cross station feeling nothing but anxious.

'I told Posie I'd be wearing my new black dress,' moaned Lily, who had changed outfits several times before leaving Godric's Hollow in the hopes of compensating for the loss of her cardigan.

'I'm sure Posie won't even notice,' her father assured her, as he pulled the car into a vacant spot outside the station's facade. This reassurance was apparently ill received by Lily, who refused to speak to her father as they unloaded and transferred their school trunks to trolleys.

Struggling with the weight of his own trunk, Albus was forced to accept his mother's help, ignoring James's sniggers. His father had told him many times that he had been shorter and scrawnier even than Albus in his youth, but had shot up in his later years of school. Albus hoped to god that this would be yet another genetic trait he had inherited from the man.

'And you wonder why your girlfriend dumped you,' James chortled as they strode through the station, manoeuvring their trolleys around the hoards of Muggles.

Albus did not reply, for he was preoccupied with pushing the heavy trolley, until he asked in an undertone, 'Can't you do mine too?'

'If you're okay with having my blood on your hands,' replied James, nodding ahead at their mother, who was too busy bickering with Lily to see her eldest son propelling his trolley forward not by hand but by the wand concealed up his sleeve.

'She's not even looking!' snapped back Albus.

'Don't cry, Ducky. You'll be seventeen one day.'

'You never do anything for me! You promised that when you turned seventeen you'd transfigure my bed, and you still haven't done it!'

'Why do you want me to transfigure your bed? It's not like you need to fit two people in it.'

Albus opened his mouth to retort, but was cut short by their father's warning voice from behind them. 'James.'

The brothers glanced over their shoulder at their father who was pushing Lily's trolley and watching his eldest son with a sharp look, his eyes cast on James's jacket sleeve. James gave a dramatic roll of his eyes and lifted the charm, grudgingly taking hold of the trolley.

They reached platform and, taking her trolley from her father, Lily hurried forward towards the space the separated platforms nine and ten.

'Lily, you have to check if anyone's watching!' Ginny hissed at the girl.

'I did!'

'You did not. I've told you a hundred times-'

But her words went unheard, for Lily had disappeared through the bricks that concealed platform nine and three quarters. Scowling at the space from which her daughter had just vanished, Ginny moved forward and she too dissolved into the bricks.

James strode forward to follow, but his father caught him by the shoulder. 'Wait a minute, James.'

'Oh, God, here we go,' sighed James

'Yes, we do.' Harry lowered his voice to avoid being heard by any nearby Muggles. 'You're of age now, and with that comes a certain level of responsibility.'

'Yes, Harry, I'm aware.'

'Upholding the statute of secrecy is nothing to be scoffed at...'

Albus was no longer listening, and with a great shove he pushed his trolley forward, taking a run at the brick wall and wincing as he always did as he collided with the would-be brick wall and finally emerged onto the concealed platform.

He spotted his mother a short distance away and with a jolting relief he caught sight of his cousin standing with her, accompanied by her parents and brother. He hurried over.

'Morning, Al,' greeted his uncle, clapping him on the back. 'Where've James and Harry got to?'

'Oh, I think they're coming in a minute,' he said, avoiding his mother's shrewd gaze, knowing that his father had no intention of telling his wife about James's misdemeanour. He turned to Rose. 'Hi.'

'Hi,' she replied. 'Why are you wearing that?'

He glanced down at the old Quidditch jumper and his cheeks reddened slightly. 'Oh, I just found it in the cupboard while I was packing.'

'You found a Chudley Canons jumper in the cupboard? Albus, you hate Quidditch.'

'Leave him alone, Rosie, the man's come to his senses,' said Ron, beaming at his nephew before giving him another clap on the back. 'Good choice, Al. What brought you around?'

Albus was spared from answering by the arrival of Harry and James, the latter looking mutinous, and was silent as they exchanged greetings with Ron, Hermione and their children.

'Harry, you look exhausted! You weren't there last night, were you?' asked Hermione, after giving him a hug.

Harry gave her a quick nod before he turned down to Hugo.

'Hugo, what's going on? You've grown three foot since last week.'

'I know, he better stop soon or he'll be taller than me,' sighed Ron, throwing an arm around his son.

'You excited?' Harry asked his nephew.

The boy nodded eagerly before asking, 'What where you doing last night, Harry?'

'Oh, Hugo, don't start,' sighed Hermione, and she brushed a stray curl from her son's eyes.

'Mum, get off, people are looking...'

Albus was familiar with the stares his father, uncle and aunt attracted whenever they ventured out into wizarding spaces together, but this made him no more comfortable with the pointing fingers and hushed whispers directed their way.

'Where's Lily gotten to?' asked Harry.

'She went off to find Posie and Zelda,' said Ginny with a rather strained voice. 'She said to say goodbye to you though.'

'Oh, right,' said Harry lightly, though Albus did not miss the disappointment in his eyes.

'Not to break your hearts but I might follow her lead,' said James. 'Want to come find Finlay and Xan with me, Hugo?'

Hugo nodded eagerly, but Hermione gave an affronted gasp.

'Hugo, no, let us at least wave you off!'

'Merlin, mum, do you want to come on the train with me?' grumbled Hugo.

'Listen to your mother, mate,' said Ron. 'We're not going to see you for three months!'

'Don't worry, I'll find you on the train,' James assured him. 'I can't let you be seen hanging around with Al. It will tarnish your reputation before you even get sorted.'

'James...' started Ginny tiredly, but James stooped to kiss her cheek and she decided against arguing. 'Bye, darling. Be good, won't you?'

'You say that as if I'm a delinquent, mother,' said James as he gave his godmother a brief hug.

'We wouldn't have you any other way,' said Ron as they shook hands in goodbye.

James then turned to his father. 'Don't miss me too much, will you?'

'I'll try not to,' said Harry as his son conceded to share a hug. 'Tell me who you end up with on the team.'

James gave a grimace. 'I wouldn't get your hopes up. You gonna try out, Hugo?'

Hugo gave an excited grin. 'Me? But first years aren't allowed their own brooms!'

'Sometimes they make exceptions,' said Harry.

'Yeah, and you fly better than half of the idiots we had last year,' James told his cousin. 'Anyway, I'll see you lot at Christmas. Better be prepared to help Al with his trunk, Rosie.'

Rose stifled a grin. 'Go away, James.'

'As you wish.' He gave his family one final goodbye and flicked his wand at the trolley, free to do so out of sight of Muggles, and disappeared through the crowds of parents and students in search of his friends.

'Well, I suppose you three better get on board,' Ginny told them. 'You have everything, Ducky?'

'Yes, Mum.'

'Good boy.' She stooped to hug him goodbye, looking slightly forlorn. 'I'll miss you heaps.'

'Miss you too,' he muttered, feeling very aware of a nearby group of boys from his year level. He broke free of her grip and turned to his father.

'Bye, dad.'

'See you, Al.' His father gave him a hug which was, to Albus's relief, brief, and he pulled away to see Hermione clutching Hugo tightly against her torso.

'You'll write to us as soon as you get sorted, won't you?'

'Yes, Mum,' sighed Hugo impatiently.

'And if you need anything at all you can ask Rose.'

'Yes, Mum.'

'And she'll help you find your classrooms if you need-'

'Will I? That's news,' said Rose, but her mother ignored her.

'And we'll miss you so, so much, Hugo-'

'Alright, dear, I think he gets it,' said Ron, grinning as he laid a hand on his wife's shoulder. 'See you, mate.'

'Bye, Dad,' said Hugo, giving his dad a hug once relinquished from his mother's grip. 'Think we'll win on the weekend?'

'I bloody well hope so. If we lose to Puddlemere United with Sloper out on a broken wrist, I'll let you drive home at Christmas.'

'You will not!' snapped Hermione, but Hugo looked delighted.

'Bye, Rosie,' said Ron, giving his daughter a fierce hug. 'If Smith gives you any more trouble let me know and I'll deal with him.'

'God, Dad, all he did was tell me I couldn't sit next to Chandra in his class anymore.'

'So? You're my daughter! You can sit with whoever you like-'

'Can we get on already?' urged Hugo, casting a longing look at the scarlet steam engine. 'I want to go find James and Xan.'

'Alright, let's get moving,' said Harry, and he and Ron grabbed hold of Albus and Hugo's trolleys respectfully and started towards the train. Ginny and Hugo followed them onwards, Hugo almost skipping with excitement.

Albus waited with Rose as she hugged her mother goodbye. 'Bye, darling,' said Hermione, looking slightly tearful. 'Watch out for your brother, won't you?'

Rose gave a nod.

'And don't let him do anything silly,' added Hermione in an undertone.

'I'm not a babysitter, Mum.'

'I'm aware, Rose, but I hoped you could your dad and I a favour.'

'Yes, yes. I promise I won't let him fall off the astronomy tower.'

'That's not funny,' Hermione told her tersely, frowning down at the redhead. 'You haven't got your badge on.'

'I'll put it on later.'

'But what if one of the students need to ask you something?'

'Then they can ask me. I'm able to articulate words without a prefect's badge.'

Her mother pursed her lips. 'Rose, being a prefect is a huge responsibility, and it's your job to look out for other students-'

'Okay, Mum, I'll put it on on the train. Come on. Hugo's about to burst.'

Looking as if she wanted to say more, Hermione helped Rose push her trolley to the train where Harry and Ron had already loaded on the other trunks and soon added Rose's.

'Well, have a great time,' Harry said to the three of them. 'Hope the workload's not too bad, you two. Good luck, Hugo.'

'Thanks!' sang Hugo, visibly bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation.

'Gryffindor won't know what's hit it,' said Ron fondly, raising a hand to ruffle Hugo's hair.

Hugo grinned around at them and gave his parents a final hug, ignoring the tears in his mother's eyes, before he scrambled onto the train.

'Hugo, wait for your sister!' Hermione called after him. 'Goodbye, you two. Can you make sure he doesn't get lost?'

'Yeah, due to all the many wrong turns you can make on a train,' said Ron.

Hermione have him a pointed look and he kissed her cheek apologetically before checking his watch. 'Blimey, it's about to leave. Get on you, two. There's Hugo at the window.'

Waving to their parents, Rose and Albus climbed onto the train and joined Hugo at the window. The whistle blew and with their parents waving at them and Hugo looking delighted, the train began to roll slowly forward.

'Take care, you lot!' Ron called to them, as he and the other parents strolled along the side of the train.

'You're gonna love it, Hugo!' Ginny assured him, beaming.

Harry raised a hand in farewell, quickening his pace to keep in stride with the train. 'Good luck-'

His called farewell fell short by the arrival of a tawny owl that had swooped down through the steam of the train upon him, landing heavily on his shoulder and brandishing a letter in his face.

'Bye, Hugo!' Hermione called, almost at a run now, trying to keep sight of her children before they fell out of sight. 'Rose, you should-'

But Rose never found out what she should do as, like her godfather, her mother was soon interrupted by another envelope-clutching tawny owl that swooped upon them, causing Hermione to give a little squeal.

'Oi, watch it!' They heard Ron grumble at the Owls, which had been joined by two more carrying azure envelopes, as the train picked up speed.

'Bye, mum! Bye, dad!' Hugo called, but his voice was whipped away from the wind, and only Ginny continued to wave as they sped off. Hugo, waving fervently, missed what Rose and Albus saw; Harry and Hermione tearing open the letters, Ron trying to wave away the persistent owls that continued to swoop down at them, and Harry and Hermione, ashen-faced, exchanging looks of what could only be called horror, before the train rounded the bend and their parents fell from view.

All around them students straightened up from the windows, excited conversation breaking out, as they began to flock away down the corridor to find compartments.

Rose and Albus turned to face each other, Albus with his pale face twisted with worry and Rose wearing a look of frowning suspicion. Hugo, however, continued to beam and he rounded on his sister and cousin and chirped, 'Let's go find James!'

'There must have been about ten owls there by the time we turned the corner,' said Rose without a glance towards her brother.

'What do you think that was about?' asked Albus wearily. 'I thought the blue envelopes...'

'Rose, come on!' urged Hugo, giving Rose's sweater sleeve a sharp tug.

'It means they're urgent, yes,' said Rose, brushing away her brother.

'But that could be anything,' suggested Albus. 'I mean, it might not be anything really bad...'

'Al, come on!' moaned Hugo, rounding on his cousin.

Albus glanced down at him. 'Hugo, you should probably stay with us...'

'No, he shouldn't,' dismissed Rose. 'Hugo, go find James if you're gonna be a brat.'

'Okay!'

'Hugo, wait...' started Albus, but Hugo had already turned on his heel and dashed away up the corridor, glancing into the compartments he passed in search of James.

'We should go after him,' Albus informed Rose pleadingly. 'Those letters...'

'Oh, Al, what could those letters possibly have to do with who Hugo sits with on the train?' sighed Rose.

Albus watched rather helplessly as Rose turned away from him and started up the length of the train away from the direction Hugo had headed, and Albus hurried after her.

'What if there's an emergency?' asked Albus beseechingly.

'Then he's better off with James anyway. He got an O for his Defense OWLs, remember?'

Albus said nothing as Rose continued up the corridor, lugging her luggage along with her; he did, of course, remember, and the thought of it gave his stomach a sharp pinch. Perhaps, he thought, as he was jostled down the corridor of the swaying train in Rose's wake, it would be best if they too were to find James and their cousins, but then how were they to find the whole bunch on the train?

'Wait, Rosie, shouldn't you be in the prefects compartment?' he asked her.

'I'll go later.'

'But what if there's some problem?'

'I'm sure they'll manage without me.'

'But, Rosie, don't you think-'

Albus's words were drowned out by a deafening scream that set his owl screeching, accompanied by a heavy force that bowled Albus sideways and sent him colliding against the train's window before he could reach his wand. Straightening up hurriedly, he could no longer see Rose, for she had been obscured from his view by a head of long, sleek black hair of a girl who was continuing to squeal with excitement.

'Chandra, calm down, you nearly killed Al,' Rose huffed, half laughing, as she tried to disentangle herself from the girl's crushing hug.

'Where were you? I missed you! I tried to find you on the platform but we were running _so, so, so_ late because Lydia wanted to wear the tartan skirt I got last week in London with you and she wouldn't take it off until Mum made her! It was _awful!'_

After a summer's absence, the babble of Rose's best friend was even more incomprehensible to Albus than usual and, massaging the point in his ribs where Chandra had elbowed him out of the way in her beeline for Rose, he waited for the girls to finally break apart before Chandra turned to face him.

'Oh, Al, I'm sorry! Are you okay? How was your summer? Why don't you two have your prefects badges?'

Albus face flushed scarlet before Rose intervened. 'Look – there's a free compartment. Let's get inside.'

Rose slid into the compartment and crossed to the window seat where she was joined by Chandra. Albus stowed his trunk away, slumped back into a seat opposite them and was visited by the familiar feeling of intruding on Rose and Chandra's breathless conversations.

'I just can't wait to be going back to school,' Chandra informed them wistfully. 'Lydia has been absolutely mad and now that Lavender's got that job at Gringotts she just thinks she's _so_ brilliant – it's just unbearable. God, Rosie, you are so lucky you're the oldest.' She gave a wistful sigh and then glanced around the compartment, a frown passing over her exquisitely pretty face, before she turned to Rose and asked, as if only just having noticed he was absent, 'Rosie, where's Hugo?'

'He went off to find James.'

Albus was all too familiar with the effect James's name had on Chandra, but her flushing cheeks and wide, brown eyes could not help but irk him, and he preoccupied himself with finding some treats for his disgruntled owl.

'Oh, where'd they go? Should we go find them?' asked Chandra innocently.

Rose fixed her with a knowing look and shook her head dismally. 'Honestly, Chandra, you could have any boy in school and you want James?'

'Oh, Rosie, not every boy!' dismissed Chandra. 'There's that boy on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team who never looks me in the eye, and Johnny Kirke is still just obsessed with Mei Zhao, and Scorpius Malfoy is always so rude when we have to work together in Potions. Isn't he, Al?'

Albus gave a shrug as he poked his owl treats into his owl's cage. 'I don't know. Malfoy's rude to everybody.'

'Al, you've never even spoken to him,' sighed Rose.

'You know he's been made prefect?' said Chandra breathlessly, as if offering them information on the whereabouts of the Fountain of Youth. 'I saw him at the station and he had his badge on, and so has his girlfriend, and Lucien Runcorn got it for Slytherin; he came over and told me when he put my luggage on the train – I don't really know why...'

'Don't you?' asked Rose teasingly, but Chandra continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.

'And I'm not sure about the Hufflepuff boys, but I ran into Cassandra Kettleburn the other day in Diagon Alley-'

Albus fingers fumbled and the owl treats spilled onto the floor, prompting an impatient hoot from his owl.

'Oh, damn… sorry, Rhea…'

'Honestly, Al,' sighed Rose, raising her wand and sending the owl treats swooping back to Albus.

'Sorry, sorry…' mumbled Albus, returning to feeding Rhea. 'You saw Cassie?'

'Oh, I forgot, you'd know that!' Chandra trilled at Albus. 'That's so nice that you two both got made prefect!'

'No, I… I didn't get it.'

Chandra blinked at him. 'What?'

'I didn't get it. I think Hamish Coote might have.'

Chandra gazed at him before whipping around to face Rose as for explanation, but Rose was busying herself rummaging around her satchel.

'Oh…' murmured Chandra. 'Oh, Al, I'm sorry, I didn't… That doesn't make any sense! Do you think there was some mistake? I mean, Hamish is sweet and all but… but he's a bit silly, you know? He always wants me to partner up in Charms even though he knows I'm hopeless at Charms – I think he's teasing me, and he really shouldn't be made prefect if he's going to do that, and it would just make so much more sense if you and Cassie were both prefects.' A wicked smile spread across Chandra's face. 'Oooh, imagine if you guys could be able to do the night patrols together-'

'We broke up.'

If it was possible Chandra's cheeks reddened even further. 'Oh, Al… Oh, dear… Oh, that's so sad! What happened? It's so hard to keep it going with someone over the summer! I mean when I was with Donny Hopkins last year and we went on Christmas break and Mum and Dad wanted to go to the Canary Islands he got so upset, and I tried to tell him that it wasn't my idea to go, but he just got so clingy! Maybe now you're at school you could make it work… Cassie's so nice and so sweet and so pretty…'

Albus forced himself to shrug. 'I don't know. She's a bit boring to be honest.'

This statement, said with as little care as Albus could possibly manage, achieved the rarely seen phenomenon of Rose snapping shut a book. 'Excuse you?' she asked dryly.

'Oh, you know, she doesn't have much to say.'

Chandra forced a nod. 'Oh, yes, I… I suppose…'

'Albus, after she dumped you you didn't leave your room for a week,' Rose reminded him tersely. 'You were utterly obsessed with her. What are you on about?'

Albus gave another shrug. 'I don't know… I can do better.'

'Oh, of course you can,' drawled Rose. 'When was the last time you even spoke to a girl that wasn't a blood-relative?'

'Well, I'm talking to Chandra, aren't I?'

'Chandra doesn't count. She only talks to you because she's too nice to ignore you.'

'That's not true!' protested Chandra urgently. 'Al, I love talking to you! I mean, I ignored you a bit in first year but that's just because I didn't really know you and you never talked and I thought you might be mute but then Rosie said you were really nice and that you were just a bit shy and-'

Chandra was spared from finishing her explanation by a sharp rap on their compartment's door, and they turned to see Connor Davies wearing his signature crooked grin with his dark hair swept artfully from his eyes.

'Hi, Chandra. How are you?'

'Hi, Connor! I like your sweater! I'm good, how are you?'

'Can't complain. Hey, Weasley. Hey, Potter.'

'Hey,' they chorused back, Albus glaring at Davies's aforementioned sweater with distaste.

Davies eyes flickering back to Chandra, and when he spoke again it was clear his words were only meant for her. 'So the guys and I are having a drink down the carriage. Kienan got some fire-whiskey aboard. Wanna come join?'

Chandra glanced at Rose to see her shrug in response before Chandra gave an eager nod and got to her feet. Receiving Albus and Rose's assurance that they would meet her on the platform, she skipped to the door where Albus could not help but notice that Davies slung his arm securely around her waist and, if he had not had better things to think about, he could have sworn he saw the Quidditch captain give her neck a fleeting nuzzle.

He turned back to Rose to see that she had returned to her book. 'Since when have they been together?'

Rose glanced up at him over her book with a look that matched the drawl in her voice. 'I'm sorry?'

'Chandra and Davies. You didn't tell me they were together.'

'They're not together,' dismissed Rose. 'They're just sleeping together. It's not like it's exclusive or anything.'

Albus goggled at her. 'They're sleeping together?'

'Yeah.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, Albus.'

'But… but… why?'

Rose placed her book face down on the table and gave him something between a smirk and a frown. 'Oh, Al. You can't truly be that clueless.'

'No! I mean - I mean not why, just... just how!'

Rose let out a huff of laughter. 'Well, you see, Al...'

'Oh, shut up, Rosie, I don't mean it like that! I mean - I mean how can he do that? He shouldn't do that to her!'

Rose cocked an eyebrow and Albus immediately regretted his choice of words. 'Do that to her? Do what to her? Have sex with her when she wants him to?'

'I didn't mean it like that...'

'She's not a child, Albus. She's allowed to choose who she sleeps with.'

'Yes, I know but-'

'So because Davies is a boy he gets to pick out any girl he wants to sleep with and of course we'll all just submit to it because he's so damn gorgeous, but when a girl wants to have sex with a boy she's obviously too stupid to realise that she's being manipulated-'

'I didn't say that…'

'- and we need guys like you to come save us? Vanquish people like Davies and his big, scary co-'

'Okay, Rosie, forget it,' said Albus hurriedly. 'Don't tell her I said anything about it, okay?'

At that Rose fixed her eyes upon him with the same look of derision he had become so accustomed to receiving from her. 'Why do you care so much?'

'I don't care!' Albus assured her quickly. 'But… but they… They're going back to school, and they could get in trouble, and they're only fifteen-'

'Do you think it would have been best to wait until marriage?'

'Oh, shut up, Rosie,' he grumbled. 'I just thought she would have waited longer.'

'I had no idea you spent so much time thinking about Chandra's sex-life.'

'Well, I'm sorry I'm looking out for your friend! Personally I don't know why you _don't_ care.'

'Oh god, Al, what do you think I am? The sex police? It's not a big deal. Everyone does it.'

Cheeks flushing red, Albus glanced away to stare stubbornly out the window. The amber farmland rolled past the speeding train and the blaring blue of the sky made him think of Cassie Kettleburn's eyes. 'Not everyone does it.'

'Just because you haven't doesn't mean no one else can,' Rose informed him. 'Once you've done it it won't seem like such a big deal.'

'How would you know?'

To his utmost surprise, Rose's freckled cheeks took on a degree of colour and without another word she reopened her book in her lap.

'Are you serious?' he demanded of her.

'Shut up, Al.'

'Oh my god, Rose! When?'

'Is it any of your business?'

'You could have told me! We're supposed to be best mates!'

'I didn't want to burden you. Obviously it's a sensitive topic and I couldn't add another monumental tragedy to your life.'

'Do your Mum and Dad know?'

Rose gave a burst of laughter. 'Are you serious? Do you think I'd be sitting here if dad knew? He would have locked me in the cellar.'

'But… but… how?'

'For god's sake, Al…'

'I mean... with who?'

Rose gave a heavy sigh and snapped her book shut impatiently. 'With that Muggle boy who lives down the road.'

'The tall one?'

'Yeah.'

'Since when were you seeing him?'

'I'm not seeing him,' said Rose. 'Well, not anymore. I suppose I was for a little while. I saw him at the supermarket – the Muggle shops at the beginning of the summer and he asked how my exams went - he thinks I go to school in Manchester - and then we just got talking and he asked if I wanted to get a coffee. We just kind of hung out for a few weeks and then his parents were going down to Dorset for a few days so I told mum and dad I was going to Chandra's for the night. It wasn't a big deal.'

Albus gazed at her. He could never remember an exact moment in their lives when he had noticed her getting older, but now before him here she was; infinitely brilliant and awful Rosie who now seemed ten years his senior, and he could not help but ask, 'Well… what was it like?'

'Al, you can't ask that.'

He dropped her gaze. 'Sorry.'

He heard her give a muffled sigh before she spoke. 'It was fine. It's overrated. I guess it gets better the more you do it but afterwards I wasn't really interested in seeing him again. I wouldn't rush if I were you.'

Albus gave a nod and turned back to the window. There were several seconds of silence before he spoke once more. 'I bet if I asked Cassie she'd do it. I mean, I know she wanted to…'

'I thought she was too boring?'

'I didn't mean that.'

'I should hope not. Why'd you say it? Did you think it would impress Chandra?'

'No,' he told her quickly. 'I just… I'm sick of people feeling sorry for me.'

'Al, you worry too much.'

'I know I do! That's my point! Everyone thinks I'm so… I don't know. Everything James has ever called me.'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'There isn't a soul on earth who James hasn't psychologically scarred.'

'Yeah, but at least you can hide it,' he grumbled. 'I've been thinking about this all summer and I'm over it. I worked it all out last night. This year's gonna be different… I'm gonna… gonna…'

'Going to what?' asked Rose tiredly.

'I don't know. Anything. Ask out Zaina Faheem, maybe.'

'She's going out with Malfoy.'

'Okay, fine. I'll ask out someone… I don't know. I'll join the Quidditch team.'

'Quidditch?' scoffed Rose. 'You've never played Quidditch in your life.'

'That's not true! I've been practicing all summer. I'm not that bad anymore.'

'Is that why you're wearing that stupid jumper?'

'It's not a stupid jumper! I like it.'

'You do not. You look hideous. You look like a tangerine.'

'I do not! You only hate them because you like annoying your dad.'

Rose gave a great huff of frustration and got to her feet, hoisting her satchel over her shoulder and stuffing her book back inside it. 'I'm going to have to ask for a brief intermission. This conversation is giving me a headache.'

'Oh, don't be like that, Rosie…'

'I'm not being like anything. I have to go to the prefect's carriage. I'll be back later, okay? And don't worry; I'll be sure to let Cassie know you're still willing to shag her.'

And with that she turned on her heel and strode from the compartment, sliding the door shut behind her and Albus was left with the familiar solitary silence, broken only by the rumble of the train and Rhea's soft hoots. He gave a sigh, loathing himself, and rested his head against the train's window, gazing at the sky and wishing the train ride to be over.

* * *

 **Song credit: _Stuck On a Puzzle_ by Alex Turner.**

 **A/N: If you've gotten this far I think I should thank you for reading - thank you, thank you, thank you! This chapter is stupidly, stupidly long and I only managed to put in about half of what I was planning to include.**

 **It's been a long time since I wrote HP fanfiction and even longer since I began planning this fic but only recently did I attempt to start writing it. If you could please, please, please review and let me know what you liked, hated or just any thoughts you have I will adore you forever. If anyone at all wants to know all the madness that's going to transgress then please let me know.**

 **Full disclosure: this isn't in keep with the Cursed Child as I've had this planned for so long and the first chapter was written several months ago. Initially I was going to wait until the script was published and edit this fic to have it fit TCC canon but after having read the script I quickly abandoned that idea. However, weirdly enough there are a few similarities with the TCC that will become obvious in time (don't worry, I promise there won't be any Blood Balls).**

 **I don't think I need to point out that there wasn't any Rose/Scorpius in this chapter, but there's a whole lot to set up and I've got to do this properly. I promise he will be around shortly (and in case anyone is concerned, not every chapter will be so Albus-centric).**

 **Once again, thank you so, so, so much for reading and any review will be utterly adored! Xxxxxxxxx**


	2. This Devil's Workday

_12/09/2016_

* * *

 ** _This Devil's Workday  
_** _Let's take this potted plant  
_ _To the woods and set it free  
_ _I'm going to tell the owners  
_ _Just how nice that was of me  
_ _I could buy myself a reason  
_ _I could sell myself a job  
_ _I could hang myself on treason  
_ _I am my own damn god_

* * *

Teddy Lupin was too thin, but it suited him. It made him look wild. It made him look as though he'd be better suited in the wilderness rather than at the dinner table. He laughed loudly and often and it seemed to burst from his throat like a howl, as contagious and unsettling as that of a wolf beneath the moon. Muscles and bones rippled under olive skin and hair that usually lay somewhere on the colour spectrum between plum purple and meridian blue fell into glowing brown eyes that darted around the room, ceaseless, endless, searching for something that was not there.

Teddy Lupin did not quite belong around people, it seemed; he was a tame beast, a wild thing, a barbarian with the tongue of an Edwardian gentleman, a pinprick of life and substance that tore through every room he entered. People wanted to know his face, people wanted to know his mind, but both of these were difficult feats.

His girlfriend was the image of perfection, but her brilliance was not restricted to her looks. She spoke with the wisdom and patience of a woman older than her twenty-one years, and laughed with a chime that drew in the eyes of anyone who heard it. It was hard for someone to imagine a person would be born looking like she did. It was an injustice to put her into writing, because mapping out her face with words or letters was not enough; you would have to see her to know the exquisite curve of her jaw, the blue of her eyes, the infinite arches of her cheekbones.

They were born to be together, or so they had been told. Her porcelain skin shone against his dark, house of Black flesh and he held her in an iron grip that no other man dared to dream of. They had loved each other since they were children and had stolen kisses behind their parent's turned backs since she turned fifteen and had begun sleeping together in his last year of school. They gave no sign of doubt or fleeting disinterest and it was assumed, or perhaps it was known, that they were to live and die together, extraordinary and eternal and to be remembered as the great, fiery lovers that they were, bound to marry sooner rather than later and to be forever entwined to the other as lovely Victoire and lovely Teddy as they had always been, and it was these thoughts that raged through Dominique Weasley's mind as she watched him make a beeline for her across the crowded office, and it was these thoughts that had raged through her mind every moment she laid eyes on him since she was nine years old.

He smiled when he reached her and, having trained herself well, she returned it, and watched unblinkingly as the bone of his elbow came to rest on her desk and his dark hand rose to catch his sharp, strong jaw, lazing his head in his palm, watching her with his hungry eyes that whispered, like they always seemed to, that he had a secret she knew not.

'Hey,' he sang to her.

She, tearing her eyes from the dark face that sat inches from her, glanced around him at the other occupants of her office, but, consumed by paper work and gossip, his entry had gone unnoticed. Her eyes shifted back to him. 'Hi.'

'How's it going?'

'Fine,' she replied, shifting her hand to cover the ink-blotched memos she had been struggling over. 'Harry's in a meeting.'

'That's okay. I came up to see what you.'

The gleam in his eyes told her he knew what she was thinking, but she promised herself that was impossible. 'Oh,' she murmured, and, before she could stop herself, added, 'Why?'

'Oh, you know,' he hummed, shifting his lean shoulders and swapping his head to his other hand, smiling all the while. 'Victoire wanted to make sure everything was going okay with your new job.'

The name of her sister ushered in unwelcome reality to the few inches of space that lay between their eyes. 'Oh,' she said again, picking up her quill and returning to the pile of unfinished memos awaiting her attention. 'I've been here almost a month now.'

'Yeah, but I felt like talking to you.'

With that the looming shadow of Victoire receded in an instant and the sharp flourishes of her quill softened. She was blushing, and she was sure he had noticed, for he proceeded to ask, 'So, what's going on in here?'

At that, she looked up to gaze over the chaos in question; the Auror office had collapsed into disarray before she had arrived at work that morning and it had persisted in such a manor all morning. Since then there had been ceaseless movement, a constant flow of Ministry workers streaming in and out.

She glanced back at Teddy, who was watching her with his bottomless umber eyes, and leant over the desk to whisper, 'They're saying Gamp's dead.'

The look Teddy Lupin adopted when he was surprised was quite exquisite; she watched his arching eyebrows in the moment it took his to collect his thoughts. 'Really?'

She shrugged, pleased to have his attention. 'I don't know. Nobody's told me anything. But Harry's had people coming in all morning from all the different departments wanting to talk to him. They're all going mad.'

'Why?' he asked, and the calm drawl of his voice made her ask the same question. 'I mean, he was getting on a bit, wasn't he?'

'Yes, but…'

'But what?' he breathed at her, his stare unwavering. 'They don't think… you don't mean he was killed, do you?'

She gave a shrug and scribbled down something extraneous on one of the memos, hoping to look sly. 'No idea, but Harry had Aurors stationed at all the homes of the Departments Heads.'

Teddy's eyes swelled with intrigue and she loved the way it looked on his face. She wished she had more to tell him, but all she could say was, 'You can't tell anyone that, though.'

'Course not,' he assured her. 'Is that why you've got so many memos?'

She gazed down at the pile before her and gave a nod, wishing he had not noticed the mess she had been making. 'I'm a bit behind,' she told him, trying to sound careless. 'Harry wanted these sent out already.'

'He won't mind. I bet you could use a drink after this, huh?'

Her quill twitched in her hand, marking the purple parchment with a sharp strip of ink, and, trying to steady her hand, quickly continued on scribbling. 'Yeah, I suppose.'

'I'll shout you one. Meet in the atrium after work?'

'Won't Victoire mind?'

There was a pause; it was brief, but it was definite, and she did not know whether to be pleased or dismayed by his hesitation.

'Why would she?' he asked her after a beat of silence.

'Yeah,' she replied, because there was no other possible answer. 'Are you guys busy downstairs?'

'No more than usual. Had to go out to Cardiff this morning to deal with these Cockatrices who had taken it upon themselves to start mating in an old Muggle dear's orchard. Nearly lost my thumb. Have a look.'

He extended his arm to her, laying his hand on the desk, and her eyes travelled over it without hesitation, working to commit the patterns of scars and mottled flesh that ran over his arms to memory, and her eyes came to rest on the deep, bloodied slit that circled his thumb, laying before her on the desk, not even an inch between his skin and hers.

'Merlin,' she murmured, and she closed her hand over his, raising it to inspect the wound. 'Teddy, that looks awful. Did anyone take a look at it?'

He gave her his toothy, canine grin but did not retract his hand from hers. 'I've had worse.'

'I know you have. That doesn't mean that's not disgusting.'

'All in a day's work, Dom.'

'You're going to get yourself killed one of these days.'

'I'd like to see them try.'

She tore her eyes from his ruined hand to his godly face and found him watching her. He was no longer smiling, but was wearing a look something close to a frown, as though he was struggling with a riddle in the depths of his mind, of which she knew nothing but which she was sure she had never seen him wear around Victoire, and for a brief moment his hand within hers did not seem unordinary in the least, but that shining instant in which her heart leapt into her throat was broken by the door behind her being thrown open and the sound of her uncle's voice.

'I know, Dennis, I know but there's nothing more I can tell you. Look, I really must – oh, Teddy, hi.'

His hand slipped from hers and it as if it had never been there. She quickly turned her eyes back to the memos before her as her uncle approached them, accompanied by the other Auror who had emerged with him from his office.

'Hey, Harry,' and the smile he gave his godfather was the one she adored – easy and careless and unaware of her burning flesh where their skin had met. 'How are you?'

'Yes, good, good,' Harry replied, in a breathless voice that told them he was anything but, his eyes not leaving the severe looking Auror beside him. 'Bit behind schedule for the day, so Dennis, I really am sorry but I'm going to have to get back to you on this. Until now we have the Minister's orders…'

The Auror opened his mouth, looking as if he wanted to argue, but apparently reconsidered and gave a stiff nod. 'Yes, Mr. Potter.'

'Thank you, Dennis, and I will let you know once I… well, perhaps by this afternoon. No later than tomorrow, certainly. Dominique, could you please have Flint and Urquhart's files sent over to Mr. Creevey's office?'

Dominique hastily dropped her quill back into the inkwell, splattering her desk with a few rogue pin-pricks of black, and wrenched open the heavy draw beneath her desk and began to rifle through the files within.

'No, no, we don't keep them up here,' began Harry quickly. 'You'll have to send a memo to personnel and – you know what, don't worry about it. I'll send them over to you this afternoon, Dennis – no, really, I will. As soon as I get the chance…'

The glum looking Auror mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "fucking catastrophe" before he bid Harry a terse good day and stalked off across the bustling room and out of stone archway into the winding corridor that led to the offices of the head Aurors.

Dominique saw her uncle's head give a rigid twitch, as if he was fighting not to shake his head, before he turned back to face her. 'Did you manage to get onto MacMillan?'

Dominique hesitated and reached for the pile of letters she was still working to get through. 'Um…'

'That's okay,' Harry assured her, a strained calm in his voice. 'Don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll run into him upstairs. Just finish with the memos and then if you wouldn't mind sending one up to administration to see if they can spare a few hands to help us on the desks just until Coote and Peakes get back from patrol this afternoon?'

Dominique gave a hurried nod. 'Yes, sure…'

'Preferably someone who's familiar with our Department.'

'Right.'

'And then if you could send a request form down to Percy for the Floo records for the North West for this morning between one and three o'clock…'

Dominique snatched up her quill and grabbed a blank memo. 'Right… one to three o'clock…'

'Actually better make that four o'clock… don't want to miss anything,' said Harry, a frown knotting between his eyebrows as Dominique scribbled onto the memo. 'And if anyone comes in to see me tell them they'll have to wait until this afternoon – or tomorrow morning perhaps. Just make an appointment in the book – but you better leave tomorrow morning free until ten. And if they don't want to make an appointment just please don't let them hang around here waiting. Just take a message and tell them I'll get back to them, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Unless it's anyone from the Wizengamot. Then you can let them into my office, but please let me know before I go in there, and if it's Mafalda Hopkirk you better get her a cup of tea or she won't leave you alone, alright?'

'Alright.'

'Alright,' said Harry, finishing with a great sigh. 'Thanks, Dom. I'm heading up to the Minister's office but I'll try to come back here to check up with you before I head out this afternoon, alright?'

'Right.'

'And if you need anything just… well, I won't be around so I guess it's up to you.'

Hoping her cheeks weren't taking on too much colour, Dominique gave a nod.

'Got all that?' asked Harry, his façade of calm cracking with the shudder in his voice.

'Um… yes. I think so. Yes, definitely.'

'Desk temps, Floo records from one to four this morning and don't let anyone in my office unless they're from the Wizengamot,' resolved Harry breathlessly.

'And make Mafalda Hopkirk a cup of tea,' added Teddy, a grin threatening to spill onto his face.

'Er, yes, thank you, Teddy,' said Harry, glancing at his watch before glancing at his godson as if only just registering his presence. 'What brings you up here?' he asked, before his eyes swelled behind his glasses and he asked in a panic, 'They didn't send you up to get me, did they?'

'Don't worry, it's nothing so dreadful. I just thought I'd come up to see if you and Gin would be free for tea tonight,' Teddy told him, and the lie did not escape Dominique. 'Didn't know I'd be walking into the Third Wizarding War, though.'

'Oh, right, well…' began Harry, running a hand through his mess of silver-flecked black hair. 'Perhaps not tonight… Not sure when I'll be getting off.'

'Leaky Cauldron for lunch then?'

'Er, no, I don't think so, Teddy. I'm supposed to be in the Minister's office in…' He glanced at his watch once more. 'Eight minutes ago, actually. So I'll get back to you… perhaps owl Ginny…' He raised a hand to straighten the front of his robes, taking a few backwards strides towards the office's exit. 'Better use the blue parchment for the memo to administration, alright, Dom?'

'Good to see you, too, Harry,' said Teddy jovially, but he went ignored, for Harry had ran into one of the Auror officer's desks on his way out of the office before he finally made it to the door and disappeared in a flurry of robes, almost at a run.

Teddy turned back to Dominique, grinning broadly. 'There goes the face of order and stability in our world. He really has a faultless aura of grace, don't you think?'

Dominique stifled her giggle as she spun in the chair to the filing cabinet behind her desk. ' _Accio request forms!'_

Three draws sprung open, a cascade of multi-coloured parchment flying from them, landing in a mess on Dominique's desk. She picked a lime-green one up, giving it a scrutinising frown, and plucked up her quill to begin to fill it out.

'I think the green ones are for Magical Catastrophes,' Teddy informed her gently. 'If you're sending it to Transportation you're gonna need to use the yellow ones.'

'Oh, right…' murmured Dominique, watching as Teddy unearthed a slip of canary-yellow parchment from the bottom of the pile and took it from his offered hand. 'Thanks.'

'No problem.'

The smile he gave her forced her to drop his gaze, as if she was staring into great light, and placing the yellow parchment aside she began to return the unwelcome cluster of wrongly summoned request forms to the filing cabinet behind her. 'I best get back to work, I suppose, before Harry gets back.'

'Don't worry. Sounds like he'll be a while.'

'Yes. But even so…'

'Oh, right,' said Teddy, and she was sure there was an inkling of dejection in his tone. 'We'll still get that drink though?'

'Oh, I… Yes, I suppose I can.'

'Great. So we'll meet in the atrium?'

'Sure.'

Another blinding smile and he dug his hands deep into his pockets, backing away from her desk, striding towards the door backwards with the grace that escaped her uncle as if guided by the benevolent force that had smiled upon him through all his days. He reached the door and disappeared through it but not before calling to her over the rabble, 'If I see anyone heading up here looking for Harry I'll distract them for you.'

* * *

Three pairs of eyes darted towards him as he fell through the heavy oak doors that guarded the minister's office, straightening up and pushing his glasses hurriedly up his nose.

'Sorry,' he spluttered at the room, hurrying over to take the seat beside Hermione. 'Lost track of time and I left my ID in the office so your guards wanted to do a full disillusionment procedure…'

Kingsley Shacklebolt raised a hand to dismiss the apology. 'Believe me, Harry, I fully appreciate the disaster all our morning's have turned into.'

Harry gave him a weary smile to show his appreciation of the Minister's sympathy, though the sharp look Hermione fixed upon him told him she was not so sympathetic to his misplacement of his ID card.

'If you wouldn't mind,' Kingsley said to the guard waiting stock-still beside his desk, 'I'm afraid we'll be needing privacy.'

'Of course, Minister,' replied the guard, and silence fell across the room as they waited for the woman to depart, leaving the three of them to their own devices.

'I apologise that I couldn't convene with you both earlier,' Kingsley informed them. 'We had to tell something to the press, of course, and then the Wizengamot needed to be informed of the situation. And then I felt that I owed Augusta Gamp a visit to offer my condolences.'

'Of course, Minister,' said Hermione.

'Hermione, how long have we known each other? I know asking you to call me Kingsley has made no dint on your professionalism in the past, but in this coming period of crisis perhaps you'll take my wishes into account.'

A flutter of a smile crossed across Hermione's face and she gave a small nod. 'Of course, Kingsley.'

'Now, Harry,' began Kingsley, folding his arms over his desk and fixing the Head of the Auror office with a sombre gaze. 'Have your people been able to uncover any type of picture of last night's events?'

'A very patchy one,' replied Harry. 'St Mungo's sent over a report this morning estimating the time of death to be two-sixteen this morning. The Killing Curse; no doubt about it.'

Neither Kingsley nor Hermione gave any sign that this news surprised them, and the Minister continued to watch him over his desk with an unwavering calmness on his lined face.

'It looks as though the killer forced their way through the protective charms at the property's rear, so it's safe to assume we're dealing with a fairly skilled witch of wizard. We're unsure how exactly the protective charms were broken at this point, but we've got curse breakers at the scene working on it.'

'Any witnesses?'

'Well, as I'm sure you know Augusta Gamp was abroad visiting their son and daughter-in-law in Tuscany until she heard the news, but we do have their House Elf in custody downstairs – we don't suspect her, but we need her to answer some questions,' he added in response to Hermione opening her mouth for the protest he only too well predicted.

'What questions?' asked Hermione shrewdly. 'The Auror admissions officer told me Lula was brought in as soon as the Aurors responded to her message from the manor, Harry. That was hours ago. Can't you get someone in with her so she can go home?'

'We've had someone in with her since the minute she was brought in,' Harry assured her, keeping the bite in his voice closely in-check, 'but she's absolutely beside herself. She won't talk to anyone. Nobody can get a word from her. We were hoping Augusta Gamp would be able to get to speak to us, but we didn't think it was appropriate to bring her in to deal with her elf after just losing her husband, so all we can do is hope the elf calms down sooner rather than later.'

'Well can you blame her?' demanded Hermione.

'I trust the elf has been well-accommodated for, has she not, Harry?' asked Kingsley, in his cool, deep voice that commanded calm with every utterance.

'Yes, of course she has,' said Harry, speaking mostly to Hermione. 'We had a healer come check her immediately, and we've tried to get her to eat and to take a calming draft, but she's refusing, so unless we bewitch her-'

'You can't do that anymore,' Hermione reminded him quickly.

'Yes, I know,' grumbled back Harry. 'That's what I'm saying. There's nothing else we can do but wait.'

'Then we'll wait,' said Kingsley smoothly. 'But moving on from the elf to the two dead wizards found in their cell this morning.'

'Dead wizards?' asked Hermione, aghast, turning in her seat to face Harry. 'Harry, it wasn't…'

'Flint and Urquhart, exactly,' said Harry darkly. 'It looks like Hemlock. Probably self-administered before they were arrested.'

'And any connection between their deaths and Gamp?'

'It looks unlikely,' said Harry. 'It's not the first time some lunatics have wanted to search the school thinking they'll be able to find something to give them the upper hand. All those who have tried have been just as unlucky as Flint and Urquhart.'

'Although nobody else has died in their cell,' Hermione reminded him. 'Harry, what if the school-'

'We've got the grounds guarded,' Harry assured her. 'And if this attempted break-in has shown us anything it's that protective charms around the school are the best we could hope for. We were on the scene within minutes.'

Hermione gave a nod, though Harry could not overlook the crease of anxiety between her brows.

'I'll need all of this documented and sent to both Hermione and I, if you would, Harry,' Kingsley informed him, and Harry replied with a nod before Kingsley continued. 'I'm sure you understand that the role of Head of Department now falls to you, Hermione?'

She gave a stiff nod. 'Yes.'

'That is if you accept it?'

'Of course,' said Hermione breathlessly. 'I wouldn't have accepted the offer of Deputy if I wasn't willing.'

'Yes, but I don't think any of us predicted your assumption of the role to take place under such trying circumstances,' said Kingsley wryly. 'And I do feel the need to apologise to both of you for calling you back in on your mornings off. It's your son's first year at school, is it not, Hermione?'

Hermione gave a nod. 'Yes, but it doesn't matter. Of course this is more important…' She gave a pause, and added rather uncertainly, 'I still saw him onto the train, so it's alright.'

'I shouldn't have to tell either of you how invaluable you both are to the Ministry,' Kingsley told them, though Harry hardly felt the praise was a compliment. 'Now more than ever. You'll both need to keep a tight reign on the department – I can only imagine what disarray it's in currently. Neither of you have spoken to the press, have you?'

'No, Minister,' said Hermione.

'Of course not,' Harry told him.

'I trusted as much, but you see I have to ask. It appears every department knows about it. I'm aware that it is in the nature of this business that the word has been spread around the Auror office, and I of course needed to inform Gamp's staff, but I need you both to make it imperative to your people not to speak a word of it to any reporters. They've already started arriving in the atrium, and we have them at bay, but we're going to be hounded – you two especially, and your spouses, I'm sure.'

The pair gave a nod to show that they understood, and when Kingsley continued his voice seemed to take on another degree of severity. 'The death of a Ministry official, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in his own home… It's going to cause panic, and under no circumstance can we allow ourselves to show any sign of uncertainty to the Wizarding community. Understand?'

'Yes,' they chorused.

'Solidarity is key; cooperation from all corners of Wizarding Britain. I don't think I need to tell you that Gamp was… controversial. He was close to being dismissed several times for his candidness regarding his personal views. If the public was have any indication that his politics was a factor in his death-'

'There's no evidence of that,' interjected Harry.

'Evidence or not, we must accept the very real possibility that he will gain sympathisers. If the Pureblood community was to see him as a martyr...'

'Not in this day and age, surely,' said Hermione. 'People aren't so naïve.'

Kingsley gave a warn smile. 'Don't quote me on this, Hermione, but we can't overestimate the people. The progress we've made in the last two decades cannot rewrite hundreds of years of prejudice and we mustn't take the permanence of this stability we currently enjoy for granted. It is for this reason I have decided to give the position of Deputy Department Head to Mikhael Rowle.'

' _What?_ ' hissed Harry.

'Mikhael Rowle?' cried Hermione. 'Minister, please…'

'Kingsley, you can't be serious,' growled Harry. 'Mikhael Rowle – he's worse than Gamp was!'

'He marched with the Blood Supremacists all through the 2000s!' Hermione reminded him shrilly. 'He may think we've forgotten that but we haven't. He's quietened down since he joined the Department but to make him _Deputy Head-'_

'He's a damn Death Eater,' spat Harry, ignoring the startled look Hermione shot him at his candidness. 'You put him in a position of power and we'll have Muggles turning up dead in a matter of weeks.'

'Harry!' gasped Hermione.

'You know I'm right,' he snapped at her.

'Harry, I understand this is a sensitive matter,' said Kingsley, 'and you both know I value your opinions on this above anyone else's. But you must see the logic. A Muggle-born Head of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't turn heads any more, but there are still those among us ignorant enough to see your promotion as an insult to their blood status, Hermione. You are both some of the greatest symbols we have for blood equality, as am I, and to have one of you as the Head of Department and the other as Head of the Auror office is going to attract criticism – they'll call it nepotism, they'll call it favouritism, they'll call it whatever they want, and we can deny it all we like, but people will talk and people will wind each other up, and so the only way to combat that is to give them someone they can trust. Muggle-borns trust you both, and Purebloods trust Rowle. You can't deny it.'

'Minister, I understand that,' began Hermione hesitantly, 'but…'

'But he's dangerous,' finished Harry. 'I'm asking you not to do this, Kingsley. As a friend, as a colleague – I'm saying don't do this.'

The warn smile across Kingsley's face, combined with the heavy sigh that filtered through his lips, made Harry almost hopeful that his appeal had been successful until Kingsley spoke. 'I don't want you to think that I am taking your concerns lightly, but I'm afraid my mind is made up.'

Harry gazed back into the Minister's warm, dark eyes, marked by the crow's feet and laugh lines that he had watched deepen and lengthen in the twenty-three years the man had spent in office; there had been times over their long working history together in which Harry had disagreed with Kingsley, but never, until this moment, had he thought him a fool. He got to his feet, fighting to keep his voice level, and said in a bitter, hoarse voice, 'Will that be all?'

Kingsley gave a nod. 'Yes, for now. Thank you for your time, Harry.'

He turned away without a backwards glance at the Minister and strode from the office, the blood rushing in his ears, deafening him to Hermione's murmured goodbyes. The Minister's reception area was rife with witches and wizards waiting for their chance to convene with the Minister and he hurried past them, sparing no apology for those who shrugged off when they dared to approach him.

'Harry,' called a witch from the Department of Magical Transportation, 'do you have any idea what's going on?'

'Mr. Potter,' came the eager voice of a wizard he knew belonged to the _Daily Prophet,_ 'a minute of a time if you would?'

He stormed past them, offering them no regard, and was nearly at the elevators when he felt a hand close around his shoulder.

He rounded on the unfortunate witch of wizard who had disturbed him in his fuming state, a flood of insults bubbling to his lips, only to find Hermione before him, brushing from her face the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her bun as she hurried after him.

'Harry…'

'I don't want to talk about it, Hermione.'

'Well, we need to,' she snapped at him, grabbing hold of his forearm and dragging him towards the elevator. 'Quick, before someone else joins us.'

He allowed her to guide her inside and with a flick of her wand she forced the doors closed and the elevator jostled into motion, heading downwards towards their Department.

'Look,' he began, 'I know I lost my temper but…'

'Merlin, Harry, I'm not here to snap at you about that,' she hissed at him. 'What are we going to do? I mean _Rowle_. Mikhael Rowle, for god's sake! I can't even remember how many Death Eaters he's tried to get released from Azkaban!'

'You don't need to tell me that, I'm well aware,' he snapped back, as the elevator came to a halt on their level, but he flicked his wand to prevent the doors from opening to allow them another moment of privacy. 'Kingsley's lost his mind.'

'He does have a point-'

'Bloody hell, Hermione!'

'Would you let me finish? I was going to say he does have a point about solidarity – I mean I shudder to think what kind of reaction we're going to get when it comes out how Gamp died – but to use _Rowle_ for it? It's just ridiculous. He's kept his mouth shut since he got the job in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but I know _exactly_ where he stands on blood equality.'

'So what are we going to do about it?'

She gazed up at him, fixing him with a shrewd glare. 'What do you mean?'

'You're really going to let him stay on as your Deputy?'

She gave a shaky laugh. 'No, Harry, I'm going to break into his house and wipe his memory while he sleeps and have him admitted to St Mungo's!'

'Now that's a thought.'

'Harry, be serious.'

'I am serious. Do you want to see the Ministry go back to what it was? I stand by what I said fifteen years ago. The children of Death Eaters should be barred from Ministry work.'

'Now _that's_ prejudice,' Hermione informed him tersely. 'All we can do is keep an eye on him and as soon as we see what his motives are we need to tell the Minister-'

'Would you just call him Kingsley?'

'Oh, Merlin, Harry, would you listen to me?'

'I am listening!'

'Fine, well, we'll need to let _Kingsley_ know as soon as we see anything suspicious. Merlin knows what Rowle wants with being Deputy. He's probably got hundreds of blood purists lined up for appointment in the Auror office-'

'Over my dead body,' growled Harry.

'Then you need to be sensible,' Hermione told him sternly. 'He's your superior now, Harry, and you don't want to give him reason to single you out. He's going to have the support of every pureblood across the country. We need to be careful.'

'Constant vigilance?' he asked her dryly.

'Don't,' she warned. 'We're not at the point yet.'

'Fine,' he grumbled back. 'So, what now?'

'Now we do what we have to do,' she informed him. 'I'm going to call a Department meeting to announce to everyone the change of leadership, and you're going to find out who killed Gamp. The sooner we can prove his death had nothing to do with his blood the better. Kingsley's right; we can't afford for him to be made a martyr.'

Choosing not to protest, he gave a nod and raised his wand to open the elevator doors, but Hermione's hand flew out to catch his wrist, forcing his wand down.

'What?' he asked her.

'Flint and Urquhart,' she murmured. 'You really think-'

'It's unrelated.'

'But the school,' she urged, watching him with wide, unblinking eyes. 'If someone's trying to get into the school…'

'Nobody is,' he assured her briskly. 'Flint and Urquhart are dead. Whatever they wanted they didn't get, and they're not going to.'

'But what could they want with the school?' she breathed. 'Harry, the wand…'

'That wand is no use to anyone,' Harry told her shortly. 'It won't answer to anyone anymore.'

'Yes, but what if they don't know that? If someone wanted to know where it was, or how to find it, or how to force it to do their bidding... What if they tried to use Ron or Ginny to find out?' Her voice faltered and she swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing. 'Or the kids...'

'Stop it,' he warned her. 'It's nothing. We've got other things to worry about. The school's safe – the kids are safe. It's just the fate of Wizarding Britain we have to worry about, so it's no big deal, okay?'

She did not manage to return his forced smile, but gave him a short nod and released his wrist. He gave his wand a twitch and the elevator doors shuddered open and they strode out.

* * *

The chilling fog that hung over Hogsmeade station confirmed for Albus that summer had truly departed and he stood, shivering in his robes, within the bustling crowd of eager students hurrying off to find a free stagecoach to take them up to the castle.

'Alright, Al?' came his cousin's voice through the crowd, and he turned to see Louis approaching, surrounded by his hoard sixth-year boys. 'You're looking lost.'

'I'm waiting for Rosie,' he replied.

'Oh, right. Where's she gotten to?'

'Prefect's cabin, I guess.'

'Lucky her. Well, don't just stand out here – it's bloody freezing. Come get in a coach with us.'

Albus eyed Louis's friends, all of which shared the same careless good looks as Louis, a characteristic that Albus hated in a person. 'No thanks, it's okay.'

Louis gave a shrug and slung his arm around the shoulders of a handsome brunet boy that Albus felt he should remember the name of but had surely forgotten. 'Suit yourself, then,' his cousin told him. 'See you up at the castle.'

Albus bid him goodbye and watched the gang disappear through the crowd; he could see them laughing at something at a distance and wondered if he was the butt of whatever the joke was, before reminding himself what Rose would tell him if she was there, which was that he was as self-involved as earthly possible for someone as self-loathing as himself.

'Al!'

The sound of Chandra's voice caused him to jump slightly and he did not miss the smirk across Connor Davies's face when he turned to face them.

'Oh, hi,' said Albus, and he straightened up, still finding himself to be a head shorter than Davies. 'How was it? Er, the ride I mean – the train-ride that is…'

'Yes, it was good!' Chandra trilled, and if she was aware of Davies's stifled laughter spurred by Albus's stammering she gave no sign of it. 'Where's Rosie? I thought she was going to meet us.'

'She's probably gone up already,' said Davies. 'Come on, let's get a coach…'

Albus watched as the Quidditch captain placed a guiding hand on Chandra's waist and with a gentle nudge attempted to lead her away from the station towards the coaches, but when Chandra brushed his hand away he was greeted with an immense sense of relief.

'No, no, Connor, it's okay. You go. I'm gonna stay here with Al.'

'Really?' asked Davies rather incredulously, though Albus wasn't sure what was so incredulous about that.

'Yes, yes, you go. I'll see you later.'

Davies gave a nod and departed with a definite lack of enthusiasm in his swagger, and when he was out of earshot Chandra leant in closely to Albus's ear, clutching his arm as she did so and sending shivers across his body. 'I think I'm a bit drunk,' she informed him in a whisper. 'I'm not sure I like fire whiskey.'

'Oh, really? Are you okay?'

'Oh, yes, it's fine. I think I much prefer mead. Oh, where's Rosie? I want to go have something to eat…'

'Well, I don't think mead _or_ fire whiskey are allowed on school grounds,' said Albus as Chandra scanned the crowd, acutely aware of the tight grip she kept on his arm. 'Do you think the Ravenclaws know that?'

'Oh, look, there she is!' chirped Chandra as the moonlight hit the head of crimson hair as Rose stepped off the train. 'Come on, let's go!'

Chandra hurried through the crowd and Albus trudged after her, muttering apologies to the students he bustled against in his efforts to reach his cousin.

'Rosie!' hummed Chandra, catching hold of her best friend's hand. 'There you are! We've been waiting! I drank too much fire whiskey and I'm _hungry!_ '

'Oh, Merlin, how tragic,' sighed Rose as they started towards the coaches, and Albus knew in an instant that she was in a sour mood. 'Bloody Lucy made us patrol the train _all the way here_. I tried to sneak off back to you, Al, but she caught me. She told me she was going to write to my father, and then when I pointed out dad couldn't care less about prefect duties she told me she'd write to my mother. God knows how that girl has made it to seventeen without being murdered in her sleep. I mean, whose idea was it make her head girl? She's gone mad with power. Come on, that coach is free.'

They climbed into the horseless coach, soon followed by a group of three giggling second-year boys whose presence did nothing to improve Rose's mood and which rendered their ride up the castle nearly void of conversation other than Chandra's vocal wonderings as to what would be served at the welcoming feast, and Albus turned his attention to the glistening silver castle. Lying across the great, black expanse of lake, sitting atop the cliff-face, its many turrets silhouetted against the glowing half-moon, sat the place that he would be stuck in for the next three months.

 _Not stuck_ , he told himself irritably. _Living in. Allowed to live in._

'Look!' sang one of the second-years, nudging his friend beside him. 'Which one do you think is Gryffindor tower?'

Albus could not help but listen to the eager debate held between the boys that lasted the remainder of the journey, watching as they jabbed their fingers at the panes of the carriage windows, indicating which tower they each believed to be theirs. Albus could not recall a time in his life when he had ever been so elated by his return to Hogwarts, nor by his belonging to Gryffindor.

The horseless coach came to a halt at the foot of the castle where a heavy set of doors stood ajar, spilling light onto the pebbled road and beckoning them into the entrance hall. The second year boys kicked open the coach's door and bounded out before Rose could so much as put her book away, and this display of enthusiasm drew a great scoff from the redhead, before she climbed out of the coach, followed by Chandra and Albus.

'Oh, look, there's Sally and Elena and Kim – I love your new hair cut, Kim!' called Chandra as they passed her and Rose's three dorm mates on the way into the entrance hall. 'Ooh, wow, Rosie, look at Scorpius Malfoy! Gosh, he's gotten tall…'

'He's not that tall,' said Albus, fixing the blonde boy ahead of them with a scowl as they entered the Great Hall, but his commentary went unnoticed by the two girls.

Rose dropped into the first free seat she came by at the Gryffindor table, towards the rear of the Great Hall, and Albus and Chandra took seats flanking her as other students scrambled into place across the four house tables.

'Oh, Merlin, I hope the sorting doesn't take too long,' sighed Chandra. 'I'm going to pass out I'm so hungry!'

'You shouldn't have drunk so much fire whiskey, you're all pale,' Rose told her, reaching for a jug of water that sat in the centre of the table and pouring a glass. 'Here, drink that.'

'What's this about fire whiskey?' came a carrying voice from behind them, and they turned to see James approaching with two other seventh years, and the three of them dropped into seats opposite Rose, Albus and Chandra. 'What would Mummy say of her little prefect, Rosie?'

'Keep your voice down,' Albus hissed at him, glancing around for eavesdroppers.

'Ducky, nobody gives a fuck about whose drinking except you,' James dismissed, before he cocked an eyebrow. 'Why? Have you guys got some on you?'

'You don't, do you?' Finlay Jordan, the burly, dread-locked Gryffindor beater, asked eagerly. 'Give us some!'

'Ooh, yes,' trilled Xan. 'Celebratory drinks after the feast for the last of us to join Gryffindor.'

'Let's not be so sure, Roxanne,' came the voice of Lucy, who had stopped beside them in her search for a seat. 'He's quite bright, you know. He might be in Ravenclaw.'

'Uncle Ron will hex you for saying that, Luce,' James told her. 'Now go away. We're talking about illicit substances.'

Lucy's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into her toffee-coloured fringe. 'What?'

'Oh, calm down, I'm only pulling your leg,' said James with a wave of his hand. 'Go find your boyfriend, would you? I don't want to be seen with the head girl.'

Lucy rolled her eyes but complied none the less, continuing up the Gryffindor table to join a peaky, blonde boy with Head Boy badge fastened to the front of his robes.

'But really,' said Finlay, turning back to Rose, 'pass us the bottle.'

'What do you care? You're all of age. You can just go buy some,' Rose reminded them.

'Yes, but it tastes so much sweeter when it's forbidden,' said Finlay, flashing a grin at the redhead, who responded with a severe shake of her head.

'We don't have any anyway,' Albus assured them quickly. 'It was the Ravenclaws. Connor Davies brought some on the train.'

'Connor Davies?' scoffed James. 'What are you three doing with that tosser?'

'He's not that bad,' said Chandra in a small voice.

James fixed her with a pitiful stare. 'Oh god, Thomas, don't tell us you're shagging him. Rose, how can you let her do that?'

'James, why must you hate every soul who's ever scored against you in Quidditch?' asked Xan, sparing a blushing Chandra from James's scrutiny.

'Excuse you, Xan, do I need to remind you that you jinxed him during his Charms exam for knocking you off your broom last year?' chortled Finlay.

'That was totally unrelated. I had to get back at him for dumping Corrina,' Xan informed them.

'My point exactly,' said James, turning back to Chandra and telling her shortly, 'Drop him, Thomas.'

Chandra gave a shrug and sipped her water. 'Maybe…'

'You could get any guy you want anyway,' James informed her with a grin.

'Stop it, James,' Rose warned him, and Albus silently agreed with her whole-heartily.

'Don't defend that wanker, Rosie,' said Finlay. 'You're too good for any boy in Hogwarts, you are.'

'Back off, Fin, she's got a Muggle boy waiting back in London for her,' James informed his friend.

Chandra gave a gasp and spun in her seat to face Rose. 'I thought you weren't going to tell anyone!'

James gaped at her. 'Seriously? I was only joking! Rose, that kid looks like the biggest twat!'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' replied Rose icily, and Albus spied her give Chandra's arm a sharp pinch beneath the table.

'Merlin, Rose, I'd rather see you with Finlay than that kid…'

'Shut up now, the first years are coming,' instructed Xan, giving her cousin's arm a sharp smack, and James's retort died away as he caught sight of a stream of tiny first years flooding into the Great Hall, led by the Deputy Head Master.

'Look – there's Hugo!' said Xan eagerly, pointing him out to her cousins amongst the crowd of other newcomers.

'Saved you a seat, Hugo!' James called to him as he passed, to which he received a beaming grin from their youngest cousin.

The Deputy Head Master led the first years to a halt before the staff-table, before which sat the ancient sorting hat, and Rose, Albus and their companions waited through the sorting hat's song and the long list of first-years that the professor read from the roll.

'You'd think Neville would do us all a courtesy and skip to G first,' sighed James impatiently. 'He can go back and do all the other brats after his godson's been sorted.'

'Shut up and listen,' Finlay told him, clapping as Daniel Bagnold became the first of his year-level to join Gryffindor.

Finally, after Annalise Godfrey joined Hufflepuff, Neville read in a carrying voice, 'Granger, Hugo!'

The name spurred a chorus of whispers around the Great Hall, just as his sister's and cousin's names had in the years before him, and the boy trotted up to the stool, utterly undeterred by the excitement his name had inspired throughout the students. He plucked up the hat, pulling it onto his head so that only his long tendrils of brown curls were visible, and dropped down onto the stool. Barely had he had contact with his seat when the Sorting Hat sung out, 'Gryffindor!'

The Gryffindor table erupted into applause while the other house tables gave feeble murmurs of disappointment at having missed the chance to claim the famous name of Granger.

'I knew it!' bellowed James, giving Rose's shoulder a light punch of celebration. 'I knew it, didn't I?'

Smiling in spite of herself, Rose applauded along with the rest of Gryffindor as Hugo tore off the hat and hurried across to the Gryffindor table, taking a seat amongst the other first-year Gryffindors who greeted him warmly.

Once the applause had subsided, which required a call for silence from the Head Mistress in response to James and Finlay's persistent clapping, Neville continued with the Sorting Ceremony, which failed to garner the same enthusiasm from Albus and his cousins once they had their assurance that Hugo would be joining them that evening in Gryffindor tower. After the last student had been assigned to their house and Neville had collected the Sorting Hat and its stool, Professor Sinistra got to her feet from behind the staff table.

'Welcome all of you to another year at Hogwarts,' the Head Mistress called across the Great Hall. 'How wonderful it is to see so many faces, both new and familiar, and what better way to greet you than with food. So please, enjoy!'

With that, the golden plates before them filled with piles upon piles of a vast array of dishes.

'Oh, thank Merlin,' sighed Chandra, diving for a dish of boiled potatoes and began ladling them onto her plate.

There was little room for conversation while they ate, all eager to fill up on the endless selection of cuisines offered by the welcoming feast, and once they had eaten their full each cousin departed to congratulate Hugo.

'I suppose I better go say something to him,' sighed Rose, though Albus was fully aware that the smile playing at her lips had not fully departed since her brother was sorted.

After the remnants of the feast disappeared from their plates to be replaced by desert, Rose and Albus left Chandra deep in a covert analysis with Elena Fortescue as to which boys had aged best over the summer, and strode up the Great Hall to find Hugo.

'Rosie!' hollered Hugo at the sight of his sister. 'I got in! I got in!'

'I noticed,' she replied, unable to contain her smile. 'It'll save Dad from spiralling into depression, at least.'

'Well done, Hugo!' said Albus.

'Thanks, Al!' trilled Hugo, before turning back to face the other first years he was sitting with. 'That's my cousin Albus. He's Harry Potter's _other son_.'

'You've got pudding on your nose, Hugo,' Rose informed her brother coolly over the first year's awe-struck gasps. 'Come on, Al, let's go back and sit down.'

They returned to their seats to find that James and Finlay had departed for join the other seventh year boys further down the table and Xan had found herself a seat beside her boyfriend at the Hufflepuff table.

'I wish the first years wouldn't stare,' sighed Albus, quietly enough so to allow only Rose to hear. 'Nobody stares at James.'

'Chandra does,' Rose reminded him. 'Just about every girl in school does.'

'You know what I mean,' he grumbled back.

'It's only because James doesn't really look like your parents,' Rose informed him. 'You'd only know he was their son if someone told you. Just like Hugo and I. But you look so much like your dad it's hard to miss. You better pray you don't need glasses later in life; that would be too much.'

'Thanks, Rosie.'

'I'm not saying it's a bad thing,' she assured him. 'And any way, if you're doing this whole personal make-over thing you need to start loving it when people look at you.'

'Shh!'

'Oh, for God's sake, Al. Nobody's listening.'

'Hey, Rose?'

The voice of this new arrival almost sent Albus off his chair, but he steadied himself in time to catch sight of Lucy, who had returned to Rose's side with a copy of the _Prophet_ tucked under her arm.

'Look, Lucy, we don't have any fire whiskey, okay?' sighed Rose.

'No, not that,' said Lucy, and Albus noticed that her voice lacked its usual purpose, and held something that could only be called apprehension. 'You don't get the evening _Prophet_ do you?'

'No, I don't. Why?'

Lucy's eyes darted around for onlookers before she took the copy of the _Prophet_ from under her arm, keeping it rolled up as she passed it to Rose. 'I think you should have a look.'

Rolling her eyes, Rose accepted the paper and shook it open and Albus craned his neck towards her to read the front page.

 _GUSTAV GAMP FOUND MURDERED  
GRANGER NAMED NEW DEPARTMENT HEAD_

Albus and Rose exchanged glances.

'You better read it,' said Lucy. 'Quickly though. You've got to take the first years up to the tower soon. The new password is "scurvy grass", okay?'

Rose nodded her thanks and Lucy departed, leaving the two fifth-years to scour the article before them. The text was brief, evidently scrounged together by _Prophet_ reporters desperate to make the story known regardless of reliable facts, but the segment had been stretched to fit the entire front page of the _Prophet_ by the accompaniment of a large photograph of Gustav Gamp standing at a podium in the Wizengamot, batting his fists and bellowing something silent over and over again.

 _Aurors were called to the home of Gustav Gamp earlier today after the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement was found dead by his house elf. Sources within the Auror office confirm that the death is being treated as suspicious, but Head of the Auror Office Harry Potter declined to comment._

 _Gamp, 89, had served as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since 2013, assuming the appointment under Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt during the massive reshuffling undertaken by the Ministry following the Second Wizarding War. Known for his Blood-purist rhetoric, Gamp was faced with the prospect of dismissal thrice during his term as Department Head and had garnered a massive band of opponents both in the Ministry and the public sphere._

 _The Auror office offered no insight into the investigation and denied_ Prophet _reporters's suggestions that Gamp's murder may have been orchestrated by blood equality activists._

 _The position of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been assumed by Hermione Granger, former Deputy Head and close friend of Harry Potter, who played a major role in the downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named. Mikhael Rowle, formerly of the Improper Use of Magic Office, has been appointed Deputy Head under Ms Granger._

 _Ms Granger was unavailable for comment regarding the events surrounding her predecessor's death but sources within the Department confirm that Granger claimed a Department meeting earlier today that the Auror office has no suspects of yet._

Rose finished reading first and sat in silence for Albus to reach the end of the article, after which her raised his head to gaze at her with wide, green eyes.

'That's what all those owls were at the station for,' murmured Albus. 'Because of Gamp getting murdered!'

'Supposedly.'

'What do you mean?'

'Come on, Al. You can tell this article's been pieced together by rumours and guesswork. Who knows what the Auror office has made of it. For all we know he could have died peacefully in his sleep. He was eighty-nine, after all.'

'That's not that old for Wizards, though,' Albus reminded her. 'And it must have been something pretty bad or otherwise why would they have needed your mum and my dad to come into work so quickly? If he just died in his sleep surely it wouldn't be that big of a deal.'

Rose was silent for a moment while she considered this before giving a shake of her head and folding up the _Prophet_. 'I suppose there's no way of knowing yet.'

'Do you think you should tell Hugo?'

'Why? What's he going to do about it?'

'Your mum's been made Department Head! That's pretty big news!'

'He doesn't even know what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is,' Rose told him dismissively.

Albus opened his mouth to protest, but it was at that moment that Professor Sinistra chose to get to her feet once more and the hall fell into silence for the Head Mistress to give the usual beginning of term reminders before she bid them all a goodnight and dismissed them.

Rose gave a sigh and got to her feet. 'Well, I'll see you up there.'

'Wait, where are you going?' he asked hurriedly.

'I've got to get all the first years together to take them upstairs.'

'Oh, no, do you?' grumbled Albus.

'Well, it's not like I want to do it. You can take my place if you like and have Hugo's new friends gawking at you.'

'No thanks,' mumbled Albus. 'Shouldn't you owl your mum and dad?'

'What for?'

'To tell them Hugo got into Gryffindor, obviously.'

'I'm sure Neville will,' said Rose carelessly. 'I'll see you in the Common Room, okay?'

Albus watched her go before turning back to Chandra, who was still engrossed in conversation with Elena Fortescue. He waited several moments before either girl registered that he was staring at them, at which time Elena cast him an odd look and shuffled away slightly, evidently irked by his apparent eavesdropping.

Deciding not to dwell on another of his frequent social missteps, he asked of Chandra, 'So are you ready to head up?'

Chandra's cheeks darkened immediately and she plucked up a stray lock of black hair and wound it around her finger intently. 'Oh, sorry, Al. I told Connor I'd meet him after dinner to… to go for a walk.'

'Oh,' mumbled Albus, 'right.'

'You can walk up with Rosie, though, can't you?'

'She's got to get all the first years together.'

'Oh, right! Stupid me! Well, um… perhaps you could come along with Connor and me. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. We were just going to see if any of the classrooms are unlocked-'

'No thanks,' Albus spluttered as quickly as he could, and he jumped to his feet in an instant. 'I'll just see you later.'

'Oh, okay,' said Chandra, looking vaguely disappointed, but Albus could not bear to look at her any longer and he hurried away into the crowd pouring out into the entrance hall.

He allowed the crowd to jostle him forward, not watching where he was going, his mind full of Chandra and Gustav Gamp and the lingering stares of the first-years. How long had he gone in life without being utterly humiliated? How long had he gone without saying something utterly ridiculous, or doing something painfully embarrassing, or-

'Oi, watch it, Potter!'

Emory Vane's sharp voice pulled him from his reverie; he had collided with his tall, wiry-haired dorm-mate at the foot of the Marble Staircase, having not realised the crowd had come to a halt under the congestion of students ascending the stairs.

'Oh, sorry, Emory, I didn't…'

His voice died in his mouth at the sight of the tiny blonde girl that stood amongst the group of his dorm-mates. Cassie Kettleburn, her thin, sandy-coloured hair pulled into a familiar pony-tail, accompanied by her usual gang of Hufflepuff girls, stood amongst the Gryffindors, conspicuously avoiding his gaze, her usually rosy-cheeks positively scarlet at the sight of him.

He was staring at her too long, he knew, and yet he could not look away, nor could he force himself to speak, and the moment of silence seemed to last an eternity before Hamish Coote spoke.

'So, how was your summer, Albus?'

'G-good. Yes, it was… good, thanks.' He was fully aware of the giggle being stifled by Cassie's friends, while Cassie herself was staring stubbornly at her feet. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Hamish, whose robes boasted a gleaming golden badge. 'Oh, you got prefect. Congratulations.'

'Oh, yeah, thanks,' said Hamish with a shrug.

'Surprised you didn't get it, Potter?' asked Johnny Kirke. 'I thought surely Professor Longbottom would have hand-picked you for it.'

The Hufflepuff girls didn't even bother to stifle their giggles at that, and Emory Vane and Atticus MacDonald too let out a huff of laughter.

'Er, no… I guess not…' mumbled Albus.

'Well, I wouldn't worry,' said Hamish. 'It's a bit of a pain, really. Only just managed to avoid taking the first years up. The new head girl's a bit psycho.'

'She's your cousin, isn't she, Potter?' asked Emory Vane gleefully.

'Oh, shit, right…' muttered Hamish. 'Well, I mean, she's good at her job I guess.'

Albus said nothing as another string of laughter sounded around him; Cassie and Hamish were the only ones who seemed able to control themselves, and yet Cassie still did not seem capable to tearing her eyes from her shoes.

'Oh, good, the line's moving,' said Hamish eagerly, and they started up the steps. 'We were gonna go to the Transfiguration room for a bit before curfew. You wanna come, Albus?'

If he had had any desire to accept the offer it was quickly crushed by the groans he heard emitted from Vane.

'Er, no thanks. I'm a bit tired.'

'Oh, yeah, fair enough,' said Hamish, and Albus did not miss the relief in his voice. 'Well, we'll see you up in the dorm.'

'Yeah. Night.'

At the top of the Marble Staircase he watched the group depart, his eyes fixed upon Cassie's golden hair, careful to scan for any sign of physical familiarity between her and any of the Gryffindor boys.

'You stalking her now?'

The arrival of his brother did nothing to improve him mood, and Albus turned to see him approaching with Finlay from down the Marble Staircase.

'I was talking to her,' grumbled Albus. 'Am I not allowed to talk to her?'

'You were not, you liar. You were talking to Coote. You couldn't even manage to look her in the eye. How are you gonna find a girl to shag you if they can't even bring themselves to look at you?'

'Leave him alone, James,' protested Finlay as they started up the Marble Staircase again. 'It's a good thing, Al. If she can't look at you it means she's not over you. You might still have a chance.'

'Fuck that,' said James. 'She's too scrawny. You should ask out that Ravenclaw girl with the curly hair.'

'Faheem?' inquired Finlay. 'Isn't she still with that Malfoy kid?'

James gave a mournful sigh. 'Typical. Well, you could ask out Thomas I suppose. If she's sleeping with Davies her standards obviously aren't too high. She might be a bit too pretty for you, though.'

'I can't ask out Chandra. She's my friend.'

'She is not,' said James, stopping at the sixth floor landing to fix Albus with a pointed look. 'She's Rose's friend and therefore she has to be nice to you. Whether being nice extends to shagging you remains to be seen, however.'

'She is pretty fit, Al,' said Finlay.

Albus rolled his eyes and continued up the staircase, but he had only taken a few steps before he realised James and Finlay were no longer in his stride, and turned back to see them poised on the sixth floor landing. 'Where are you two going?'

'Ask no questions and I'll tell no lies, Ducky,' James sung to him.

Albus trudged back down the steps to re-join them. 'You know Mum said she'd take away your broom if you get another detention before October.'

'Ye of little faith,' said James. 'Not every misdemeanour we commit results in detention. If so we wouldn't be able to make it to any classes.'

'So what are you doing?'

'That's for me to know and you to fry your teeny, tiny brain trying to find out.'

'You're a prat, James,' Finlay informed him. 'We found some Slytherins on the map down in an empty corridor and we're gonna chuck a dung bomb in. Wanna come?'

Albus's immediate response was "no", and it came so automatically that he omitted a rather choked splutter as he tried to catch it before it left his mouth. Recovering quickly and ignoring James's laughter, he said, 'Alright.'

James let out another burst of laughter. 'Very funny. Now go away, you're holding us up.'

'No, I'm serious,' insisted Albus. 'Let me come with you.'

'You've never experienced anything more exciting than Gran's trifle in your life. This is gonna do you in, Al.'

'I mean it!' he told his brother imploringly. 'Come on, James, let me come! What do you think's gonna happen?'

'Come on, James, just let him come,' said Finlay. 'If we don't hurry we're gonna miss them.'

James gave an immense groan of reluctance. 'Okay, fine, but you better not be an idiot about it, alright, Al? Just do what I tell you and you'll be fine, alright?'

Albus had lived most of his life under the guidance of the philosophy that he should absolutely not do what James told him to do for the sake of his own survival, and so, casting away the ideology he had lived by for his first fifteen years of life, he gave a nod.

The walk down the sixth floor corridor seemed to last for hours and the inexplicable sense that he was walking to a noose waiting for his neck settled upon him, but he did not allow himself to fall behind Finlay and his brother.

'Down here,' James instructed of them, gesturing down a narrow offshoot of the corridor, in which he could see nothing but pitch-blackness.

'Are they down there?' asked Albus wearily. The prospect of wondering through pitch-blackness into a hoard of Slytherins was anything but attractive.

'Through there and then they're in the corridor parallel to this one that goes to the Charms room,' said James, glancing down at the weathered yellowed parchment in his hand.

James turned, unheeded, down the blackened corridor. Finlay offered Albus a grin before following his partner in crime and Albus, swallowing the fear in his throat, hurried along after them.

Albus felt his way along the corridor, his fingers grazing the cold, stone walls as he followed the sound of James and Finlay's soft footsteps, and he asked into the darkness, 'Do you think this is what Dad intended you to use the map for?'

'Shut up,' was the reply he received from both seventh years, and a moment later he felt himself collide with a tall figure. A hand caught his forearm in an iron grip, holding him upright and panic flooded through him before a light appeared at the tip of James wand and he saw the figure he had collided with was Finlay.

They had reached the end of the narrow corridor, which was barred by a heavy, burgundy tapestry, through which Albus could hear a murmur of voices. James raised a finger to his lips and fixed his brother with a piercing look, and Albus knew that should he make any noise he would pay for it, and, following James and Finlay's lead, he approached the tapestry, resting his ear against it to listen to the voices of the Slytherins on the other side.

'Look, I don't know what you're so worried about-'

' _Goyle_ ,' James informed Albus.

'I think it's pretty obvious what he's worried about, Edmund,' came the snarling voice of Lucien Runcorn. 'I'm worried about the same thing.'

' _The fifth years_ ,' narrated Finlay, to which he received a nod from James.

'Then you're an idiot,' snapped Clement Rosier. 'We've told you, there's no way the school's going to find out-'

'And how can you promise that?' demanded Beaumont Burke. 'For all we know the teachers could be watching everything we do after what happened last night.'

'Why would anyone suspect that had anything to do with us?' demanded Rosier.

' _On the count of three?'_ Finlay whispered across at James.

'If you need that explained to you then I definitely don't have any interest in getting involved,' came the drawling voice of Scorpius Malfoy.

James gave a nod and, dimming the tip of his wand and stowing it away, he withdrew from his pocket a heavy-looking dung domb. ' _One, two-'_

' _Wait!'_ Albus hissed at them, catching James's hand and forcing himself to ignore the venomous look James gave him. ' _Listen!'_

'Excuse you, Malfoy?' snarled Rosier. 'You should be honoured that we've even asked you to join us.'

'I have no idea why,' retorted Malfoy. 'Now if you don't mind I'll be going-'

'Wait,' Rosier hissed at the Ravenclaw, and from the heavy silence that fell upon the group Albus knew that Rosier had withdrawn his wand. 'I suggest you take a moment to really think about what you're saying.'

'I don't need a moment to think about it,' Malfoy told him, and there was a second of silence in which Albus was sure Malfoy had withdrawn his wand. 'I already know my answer. Get out of my way.'

'You're seriously going to walk from this opportunity?' demanded Rosier, his voice laced with venom. 'You seriously want to do that?'

'Clement, put your wand away,' snapped Runcorn.

'Wait, wait, Lucien, I think Malfoy owes us an answer,' hissed Edmund Goyle, and with a rustle of his robes he too doubtlessly withdrew his wand. 'You know my father told me about your family but I decided to give you a chance-'

'Very kind of you, Goyle,' snapped Malfoy. 'I'm so sorry to have wasted your energy. Merlin knows it must take you a lot of effort to haul yourself up the stairs.'

'You little – _Levicorpus!'_

 _'Protego!'_

The absence of yells told Albus that Malfoy had managed to blocked Goyle's jinx, and Runcorn's raised voice rung around the corridor. 'Stop it, for god's sake!'

'Don't pretend you don't know what's going on, Malfoy!' Goyle bellowed. 'Don't pretend you don't know what your father's up to!'

'Edmund, shut up,' snarled Burke.

'You can pretend my family's beneath yours, but we're going to end up fighting on the same side-'

'Edmund _, shut the hell up!'_

'What the fuck's your problem, Beaumont?'

'There's someone listening behind that tapestry, that's what!'

Albus did not even have time to straighten up before he heard Malfoy's shout of ' _Evanesco!'_ and the tapestry before them vanished. There he stood, flanked by James and Finlay on either side, the three of them empty-handed and frozen in their spots, five pairs of wands aimed at the mouth of the tiny corridor where they stood, Edmund Goyle's pointed squarely over the space in Albus's chest that guarded his heart.

'Move,' Goyle hissed at him, 'and you're dead.'

* * *

 **Song credit:** **_This Devil's Workday_ by Modest Mouse.**

 **A/N: Jesus Christ, another ridiculously long chapter that was more exposition than substance. I'm sorry. I may not be the most frequent updater but I promise that none of my chapters will be short.**

 **If anyone's wondering what the point of having Aurora Sinistra as Head Mistress instead of McGonagall was, it's because JK Rowling had stated through various sources prior to the Cursed Child (I.E. real canon) that McGonagall had retired before James started at Hogwarts. Sinistra just seemed like a good choice as by this point she's been working at the school for over twenty years.**

 **Is anyone intrigued yet? Does anyone care in the slightest? If so please, please, please let me know in a review, no matter how brief or critical. You will have my endless adoration.**

 **The next chapter will be entitled _She Only Loves Me When I'm There_ , or it will be if I ever upload, which may not happen if I don't get some sign ( _reviews!)_ that there are a people out there wanting to see how this story plays out.**

 **Once again, thank you forever and ever for reading! xxx**


	3. She Only Loves Me When I'm There

_17/09/2016_

* * *

 ** _She Only Loves Me When I'm There_** _  
If she wants this to be  
She'll have to see the things I have had to see  
Maybe she would know  
Maybe she would care  
She only loves me when I'm there  
I don't want to live like this anymore_

* * *

'I mean, who does she think she is?' Zaina demanded, as if he was responsible for wishing Rose Weasley into existence. 'Waltzing into the prefect's meeting halfway through?

'I suppose being part of that family she's used to behaving however she likes,' Scorpius replied, knowing it was his queue to insult the redhead.

'I know!' huffed Zaina, though her tone was so laced with anger that it sounded less like an agreement than an accusation. 'I mean if you or I or _anyone else_ had come to that meeting late we never would have heard the end of it from the head girl. I suppose they are _cousins_ of course, but _don't_ get me started on _her_ …'

'I won't,' Scorpius told her, but Zaina seemed unwilling to acknowledge the hint.

'It's not like anybody likes her,' she proclaimed. 'Everyone just has to pretend to be nice to her and Potter because of their parents.'

There was a twittering of agreement from around the stagecoach directed at Zaina from her four faithful companions, and, encouraged by this, Zaina continued.

'I mean Chandra Thomas is the only person in school stupid enough to actually want to be friends with that girl,' she informed them. 'She's so standoffish.'

'We're here,' said Scorpius as the coach began to slow at the foot of the castle, and he had thrown open the door before it had come to a complete halt.

He waited at the foot of the coach to offer Zaina his hand as she climbed out, knowing he would answer for it later if he failed to do so and prompting a trill of giggles from his girlfriend's friends. He had spent more of his summer than he would have hoped for in their presence, and this unfortunate predicament gave no sign of waning now that they were back in the castle.

His suspicions were confirmed when he and Zaina were joined at the Ravenclaw table not only by Zaina's quartet of devotees but his three dorm-mates, which, Scorpius was pleased to note, at least put Zaina's incessant attack on Weasley and Thomas into intermission when he was informed via Kienan Cornfoot and Mori Akiyama's joyful jeers that Connor Davies had begun sleeping with Thomas.

'Doesn't it bother you how much time she spends with Albus Potter?' inquired Isabella Moon once the sorting ceremony had ended and they had begun piling their plates with food.

'Why would I? It's not like the git would try anything with her,' replied Connor, to which he received hearty agreement from Kienan.

'Well, I heard he and Cassandra Kettleburn are done,' offered Louisa Edgecombe.

Harbouring no essence of desire to discuss Albus Potter's love-life, he turned to Zaina and asked low enough to as not to invite any of their so-called friends in on the conversation, 'Why aren't you eating?'

'All this food here is too heavy, Scorpius,' she retorted, in a voice that told him she had expected him to know better.

'So you're planning on starving to death? That's attractive.'

'Oh, Zaina, that's so silly,' declared Martha Turpin. 'You're so skinny!'

Zaina sat patiently as compliments of a similar nature were thrown at her from around the table and Scorpius passed the remainder of the feast in silence. Solitude is what he had most craved upon returning to the castle, and he was determined to earn himself some before retiring to Ravenclaw tower.

It was this determination, therefore, that spurred him into slipping through the crowd of students upon being dismissed by Professor Sinistra, stealing away out into the entrance hall before Zaina could get a hold if him.

Avoiding the congestion on the Marble Staircase, he slipped out of the entrance hall into one of the off-shooting corridors which was significantly less populated, occupied only by a few older Slytherin students who he knew were in a habit of using it as a short-cut down to the dungeons, but he knew also concealed a hidden staircase through the castle's south wing that led upstairs to the owlery.

He deduced Edmund Goyle and his cohorts were on the same path as him as soon as he started up the staircase, but had paid them little attention. They were on good terms, or as good terms, he thought, as one could be with somebody with the mental capability of a bowtruckle, and while he would have chosen Zaina's friends for company before them they were of no concern until he exited the staircase on the sixth floor and heard Edmund Goyle call his name.

'Oi, Malfoy.'

He rounded on them to see the four Slytherins clambering up the stairs and spilling out into the corridor.

'Evening.'

'You got time to talk?'

'Not really, actually. It's nearly past curfew.'

'Fuck curfew,' proclaimed Clement Rosier.

'Okay, I'll let Professor Sinistra know about this change of administrative procedure.'

'It won't take long,' Lucien Runcorn assured him.

'Go on, then.'

'Not here,' Rosier hissed at him. 'Somewhere private.'

Scorpius eyed him carefully. He was certain that whatever Rosier deemed in need of discretion was doubtlessly unsavoury. He glanced towards his golden watch and, seeing he had only fifteen minutes before he was due back in Common Room, reluctantly agreed. He permitted the Slytherins to lead him down a side passage that steered them towards the Charms corridor, Goyle leading the way.

'So, what is it?' he asked once Goyle had allowed them to a halt in a silent, torch lit corridor with walls adorned with heavy, ancient tapestries.

In a voice that Scorpius knew he intended to be far more sophisticated than it was, Goyle proclaimed, 'I have a proposition for you.'

'I appreciate the offer, but I'm seeing somebody.'

'It's serious, Malfoy,' said Runcorn disapprovingly. 'You've got to promise you're not going to mention it to anyone.'

And that was what accounted for his predicament when, several minutes later, he vanished the tapestry to find the Potter boys and Finlay Jordan frozen in the mouth of the concealed passageway, caught in the act of eavesdropping. All three Gryffindors wore the same expression of incredulous panic, and had he not known immediately the severity of the situation, he would have relished the look of consternation across James Potter's face that had surmounted his self-adoring grin for perhaps the first time in his life.

'Looky, lads,' Edmund Goyle sung gleefully to Scorpius and the Slytherins, though the fury in his eyes was unmistakeable. 'Looks like we've found some new friends. Alright, boys?'

Scorpius could see Albus's Potter's eyes flickering between each of the five wands, apparently uncertain which posed the greatest threat, while James's brow was creased in contemplation, before the Quidditch captain finally cleared his throat.

'Good, mate,' he replied. 'And you?'

'Good now that you've decided to make our evening a bit more interesting,' Goyle hissed back. ' _Accio wands!'_

With a flick of his wand Goyle brought the three wands flying from each of the Gryffindors's pockets and over their heads. Goyle's free hand lunged for them in their air, but he missed hopelessly and they landed across the hallway with a loud series of clatters.

'What did you hear?' demanded Beaumont Burke. 'Come on, Potter, speak! We don't have all night!'

The weedy brunette gave his hand a threatening twitch, and Scorpius watched James extend an arm sideways to make a would-be barrier between Burke's wand and his younger brother's chest. 'Temper, temper, Burke.'

'Let's not be stupid about this,' warned Lucien Runcorn, his dark eyes darting around the group from beneath a dark fringe. 'Look, Potter, just tell us how long you were there.'

'Nuh-uh, I'm afraid it's not going to be that simple, Lucien,' Clement Rosier informed him.

'Yes, Clement, it is,' urged the prefect, but he went ignored.

'Didn't your father ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Potter?' drawled Rosier.

'Oh, our father says a lot things,' said James. 'What about yours, Clement? I suppose it's hard to have a chat when he's in a prison cell-'

'You shut your mouth!' spat Rosier.

'You'll pay for that one, Potter,' growled Goyle. ' _Cruc-'_

In an instant Scorpius's arm flew away from the Gryffindors to mark Goyle, his wand fixed upon the enormous Slytherin, and from the corner of his eye he saw that Lucien Runcorn had done the same, bellowing as he did so, 'Edmund, no!'

'Who do you think you're doing, Runcorn?' snarled Goyle, redirecting his wand at these new potential assailants.

'I'm stopping you from doing something you'll regret,' snapped Lucien. 'Now everybody's going to shut the hell up and we're going to have a nice little chat, okay?'

Fixing Goyle with a loathsome glare he dropped arm to his side, but Scorpius was not so quick to do, keeping his wand trained upon the giant of a boy with his eyes narrowed watchfully.

'Now,' said Lucien bracingly, returning his wand to the three Gryffindors. 'I think I asked you how long you'd been listening?'

James opened his mouth to retort, but Finlay quickly intervened with a hurried proclamation of, 'We weren't listening. We saw you come down here and thought we'd throw a dung bomb.'

'Is that so?' asked Rosier in a drawl. 'Because we came up the hidden passage in the south wing, so I don't know how you could have managed to see us come up here.'

The Gryffindors were silent, and after several seconds Beaumont Burke demanded, 'You better start talking soon or hexes are going to start coming.'

'And even you three aren't thick enough to realise that there you're outnumbered,' Rosier informed them, a livid smile forming across his face. 'Not to mention you're unarmed.'

'Yes, the thought had crossed my mind,' James told him pleasantly. 'But I think you might have found yourself in a position of a bit too much power than you can handle.' His raised arm shifted to Albus's shoulder, ready to lead him away. 'So perhaps it would be best if we all bid each other goodnight and we'll see you tomorrow at breakfast-'

James had little time to withdrew his arm from Albus's shoulder before Goyle's hex flew at them, and they both dodged away, Albus crashing into Finlay Jordan as he did so, and the Beater hurriedly caught the younger boy's arm to keep him from stumbling.

'Got yourself another little bodyguard, Potter?' taunted Rosier. 'Is this your job now, Jordan, when that Weasley bitch is unavailable?'

'Yes, she and your little girlfriend would make much better playthings than you three,' Goyle informed them gleefully, and the hunger in his voice when he spoke of Chandra Thomas made Scorpius's skin crawl. 'But I suppose you'll have to do – _Incarcerous!'_

Had the spell worked properly, Scorpius knew that Albus would have been bound too tightly to stand, but the ropes merely looped themselves around his arms, pinning them to the sides of his body, and, clutching hold of the end of the rope that had flown from his wand, Goyle tugged the Gryffindor closer, and the boy had no choice than to obey other than falling flat on his face.

'Now, Potter,' said Goyle, raising his wand to Albus's temple with his eyes fixed upon James, 'tell us what you know or your little brother's no longer gonna look much like your famous father.'

'Edmund, this is pathetic,' snapped Lucien. 'Let him go-'

'What, and let them tell the whole school about what they've heard?'

'We didn't hear anything-' spluttered Albus in a panic, but the menacing twitch of Goyle's wand persuaded him to fall back into silence.

'So what if they heard us?' Scorpius found himself asking. 'We haven't done anything wrong, and if you want to keep it that way I wouldn't touch him if I were you.'

Rosier and Goyle's eyes jumped to the Ravenclaw, watching him with mutinous eyes, sizing him up; Scorpius was taller than the rest of them, even Runcorn and Goyle, and while he was leaner than the whole bunch of them, he was sure that he could best each at wand-work; the trouble was that there was only one of him and four of them.

'You're right,' said Goyle finally, and Runcorn emitted a huge sigh of relief.

'Thank god, now let's get downstairs before anyone comes along-'

'Yeah, _I'm_ definitely not gonna touch him,' continued Goyle over Runcorn's recommendation. 'Malfoy can do the honours.'

Without thinking, Scorpius felt himself emit a huff of laughter. 'What do you think I'm gonna do? Torture him? This whole thing's starting to get boring-'

'Do it,' commanded Goyle, and his wand flinched across to Scorpius. 'Come on and prove to us we're not going to have to worry about any loose ends with you.'

'You've got to be joking-'

' _Do it, Malfoy!'_ spat Rosier, he too turning his wand on Scorpius. 'It's either him or you.'

Scorpius eyes lay fixed upon Goyle and Rosier's bared wands. 'What is it you want me to do?'

'Make him talk,' said Goyle without hesitation. 'I don't care how, but you better hurry, or you're pretty little face will no longer be pretty enough to keep your little whore girlffriend interested.'

The mention of Zaina had the desired effect and he could feel the heat rising in his face with his temper. Had he had any Ravenclaws with him, or perhaps had the Gryffindors still retained their wands, he would have bowed to the desire to curse Goyle on the spot, but with shaking hands and a pulsing heart he told himself to be sensible.

'Or perhaps we should ask her opinion on this?' drawled Goyle, and there was something close to longing in his voice. 'Perhaps your girlfriend would like to see what we're capable of-'

His lips moved so slightly, and his wand's twitch seemed so innocuous, but the impact of the hex was instantaneous, and it was all that James Potter needed. The great crash of exploding bricks at the far end of the passageway, caught in the road of Scorpius secret spell, drew the panicked attention of the Slytherins as he knew it would, and their heads and wands whipped away from him to find the source of the ruckus, and James Potter lunged.

His fist caught the side of Beaumont Burke's face, causing the stocky Slytherin to give a yelp of pain and stumble over, and James did not need more than that to snatch the wand from his hand.

The Slytherins spun back at the sound of Burke's cry, but Finlay Jordan had already thrown himself across the passageway to snatch up the wands, and now joined James in raising their arms to the Slytherins, and before any of the four could register what had transgressed, both Gryffindors bellowed, ' _Expelliarmus!'_

He had been expecting it and his instantly conjured shield charm was enough to allow him to keep hold of his wand, while the Slytherins were not so lucky, and he heard the sound of four wands clattering onto the stone floor as he himself turned and broke into a run. His decision to explode the bricks would attract attention, and even now he could hear hurrying footsteps from the direction of the Charms rooms of someone coming to investigate.

He rounded the corner of the passageway as he heard James cry out the incantation for a severing charm, freeing his brother of Goyle's conjured ropes and shouting to his companions, 'Al, Finlay, _move!'_

* * *

Hecate Hall was silent when he returned that evening and the scent of the wisteria that grew thickly across the manor's façade mingled with the soft scent of smoke from the season's first fire that his wife had left dwindling in the hearth before retiring upstairs to their bedroom.

Even his aching hunger was not enough to persuade him to deviate from his direct journey from the front door, which he shut as quietly as he could, up the stairs to his beckoning bed.

Theirs was the last of the many rooms spanning the long, torch-lit passageway on the manor's second floor. When their children had been younger they would sleep with the door ajar, to better hear their calls in the night or to allow them to crawl their way through their covers between their parents after bad dreams, but now the door was pulled shut and he eased it open as close to silently as he could.

Their bed sat beneath the window, wisps of moonlight sneaking in through cracks in the curtains, a sliver falling on his wife's cheek and illuminating it as she lay in a huddle, her knees pulled up to her chest as she slept. Age had treated her kindly and she did not look all of her forty years. Her porcelain cheeks, marked with a ridge of faded freckles, remained unlined, while his own face held the lines and scars of a man older than himself, the grey streaks in his hair seeming more prominent every time he allowed himself to check them in the mirror.

He undressed, throwing his robes over the armchair that sat in the corner, and eased himself into bed beside her and she gave no sign of stirring, no murmur of disruption as she lay rigid across the rift in their bed sheets between them, a stillness that could only be conscious.

'Are you awake?' he croaked through the darkness.

'Yes,' she murmured back, not turning to face him.

'Did I wake you?'

'No, I was waiting to for you to get back.'

'You didn't have to.'

'I always do.'

Years ago, when they were first married, he would find her every evening that he worked waiting in the living room, nestled in an armchair, her head propped up in her hand, fighting sleep and waiting for the assurance that he would return home breathing, but the years wore on, and with every step higher in the Auror office he took his nights would wear on longer, and with three children in need of wrestling into bed she would no longer find the strength to stay sitting up in the silent house waiting for him to arrive, and the guilt that that knowledge left him with had long been resident deep within the back of his mind. He shifted onto his side and his hand moved numbly across the pillows, bridging the void between them, and his fingers grazed he bare skin on the back of her neck.

She did not move into the touch as she once would have, and she lay in silence as if had had made no contact at all, until his fingers trailed into her hair and brushed the silky tendrils from her cheek, and he shifted a little closer to her.

'Don't, Harry.'

'Sorry.'

'Do you know what time it is?'

'Yeah.'

She was silent, allowing the weight of the unasked question and unoffered apology to fall in on him. He withdrew his hand from her pillow, but his eyes did not leave her, trained on her crimson hair cast bronze by the moonlight.

'I came home as soon as I could,' he told her in response to her unspoken scolding. 'There was no way we could get away any earlier. Hermione's still at the office. She's been made Head of Department.'

'Oh,' she replied in a murmur. 'That's good.'

'With everyone stationed at the homes of the higher ups I was the only one left to escort Kingsley home and then we couldn't hold the reporters off any longer. They wanted to know what went on with Flint and Urquhart.'

'Well, what did go on?'

'We don't know, Ginny. We probably never will know. They're dead. Who knows what they were after.'

'And you still think it's safe for the children to be at school?'

He caught the sigh the surfaced in his throat before he spoke. 'Hogwarts is the safest place they could be, Ginny.'

She shifted beneath the covers, turning to look at him over her shoulder, the light from the window catching her sharp, dark eyes that she fixed piercingly upon him. 'Are you saying we're not safe here?'

'No, that's not what I'm saying.'

'What about Ron and Hermione? If Gamp is dead, and Hermione's his replacement-'

'It's not like that,' he assured her. 'Gamp had a lot of enemies.'

She raised herself to sit, brow-arching, lips pursed. 'So it's true? This is about blood equality?'

'No,' he told her, though after second's pause for reflection he added, 'it's too early to say.'

His reassurance did not sooth her and she remained sitting upright, gazing at him like a cat watching a mouse, the blankets falling away to pool around her waist, her naked flesh gleaming in the darkness, and he could not look away from her. 'You're hoping it's not,' she informed him, accusation in her voice. 'You don't want to admit that that's the way it looks.'

'Just because it looks a certain way doesn't mean it's the truth.'

'Don't give me your press-release voice,' she warned. 'I'm not stupid. I know what this means. If people start to believe there's another war between Pure Bloods and Muggleborns then our family's going to be at the centre of attention. If my kids are going to get hounded-'

He pushed himself up, fighting back the ache in his head from his exhaustion, raising a steady hand, signalling for her to calm herself, and told her in a soft, gentle murmur, 'Ginny, stop.'

It was the type of voice which, years and years ago, he would not have thought he would need to use with her, but the countless evenings in which he had not returned home, the many visits made to St Mungo's as he lay there bleeding, the hoards of journalists that followed her children down the street whenever they ventured out of Godric's Hollow had forced him to learn to sooth her; the temper she had always had had only been exacerbated by the anxieties which a life with Harry Potter instilled in a person.

His hand moved to touch her, her soft skin pristine beneath his calloused fingers, and he gripped her shoulder, feelings her bones within his clasp, and she did not shrug him off. There in the darkness and her worry she looked just as she had at sixteen.

'Nobody's going to get anyone near the kids. I won't let them. You know that.'

She hesitated, and he knew she was mulling her doubts over in her head, before she resigned to nod. She dropped his gaze, looking smaller now than she had in her rising temper, and his hand moved from her shoulder to her cheek, and she permitted herself to lean into his touch before raising a hand to touch his, her finger kneaded his knuckles, and he guided her back down onto their pillows, and they lay watching each other.

'Hugo's in Gryffindor,' she murmured to him. 'Neville sent an owl.'

'That's great.'

'Yeah.'

'How was your day?'

'Fine. I just had to edit a few articles.'

'Can I read them?'

'When they're in the _Prophet_ you can.'

His face cracked into a smile, which she returned, and he moved to kiss her, and she returned it, but flinched away before it could be allowed to grow deeper.

'Harry, I'm tired.'

He pulled away and, staring at her, gave a nod. She held his hand but only to guide it away from her, back across the no-man's land onto his side of the bed. He had not thought he had room in his head to be irked by this, but it seemed he did, for he suddenly felt the urge to turn away so as not to have to look at her, and he did just that.

'I'm sorry,' she told him through the darkness.

'It's fine.'

He knew she was punishing him, but for what he did not know, and though he would have loved to deny he knew she had a thousand reasons to choose from, and yet he promised himself that his own anger was permitted. Twenty-three years of living and breathing in symbiosis within the old manor house and she chose to lie beside him in the pitch-black silence rather than speak the misdemeanours riffling through both of their minds.

He opened his mouth to voice these thoughts to her, or at least that's how he would later tell himself it would have happened, had he not then be roused by the sharp sound of the window above their bed being rattled.

She was bolt upright in an instant, her hand whipping to her wand, ready for the day of reckoning she had always planned for.

'It's an owl,' he told her, defaulting back to his hushing assurances, and he rose to rip back the curtain behind their bed. 'It's just an owl.'

He fumbled with the latch at the window, watching his wife in the corner of his eye as she returned her wand to the bedside table, feeling her burning eyes upon him. It was a Ministry owl, it's sleek feathers pruned and it's amber eyes watching him as it waited to enter the bedroom, a loathsome blue envelope attached to its leg.

'It's the middle of the night,' Ginny told him in a bristling voice as the cool September air washed over them and the owl hopped inside to offer its leg to Harry. 'This is unbelievable.'

He did not reply as he tore open the envelope and scanned the letter, addressed to him from the Minister's under-secretarial office.

'What do they want?'

'It's Gamp's house elf,' he informed her. 'She wants to give a statement. She knows who killed him.'

Ginny said nothing as he folded up the letter and raised his wand, igniting it with the tip of his wand as was procedure with all discarded Ministry materials, and waited for the owl to depart before he the window and pulled himself up from their bed.

'You're not going back in now, are you?'

'I'm sorry, Ginny.'

'You can't be serious,' she hissed at him, watching with incredulous fury as he pulled his robes back on. 'This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.'

'I don't have a choice-'

'Every night,' she spat. 'Every fucking night, Harry.'

'Ginny, I'm sorry, but they need me-'

'How many nights did you even spend at home this summer?' she demanded. 'You may not want to see me-'

'You know it's not like that-'

'-but I thought you'd at least want to be with your children before they go back to school for another whole year. You can't even see them onto the train without getting called into work!'

He urged himself not to rise to her bait and instead focused on fastening the clasps on his coat.

'Is this how you pictured our life would turn out?' she asked him, her voice nearing a yell. 'You speak to Dennis more than you speak to me, Harry! More than you speak your own children!'

'I can't talk about this now.'

'You can never talk about this! You're never home long enough!'

He snatched up his wand and took a step towards the bedroom door. 'I'll be home as soon as I can-'

'Oh, don't even bother!' she hurled at him, and with that she turned away, pulling the bed covers over her, flinging herself back onto the pillows into which she buried her face, like their daughter had done throughout her childhood tantrums, but, turning away, he pushed them both from his mind and strode from the bedroom.

* * *

She had never been a subject of attention. It was extraordinary to her that, as she would often ponder as she alone in her bed, how two people that that looked so alike could inspire such different gauges of response from those around them with their mere materialisation.

When she looked at photos of her sister's at the age she was now, just shy of nineteen, she could trace her sister's eyes and long, spindly arms and the sharp ridge of their jaw as if they were her own, their tendrils of blonde hair the same silver that gleamed even in the dimmest of light, neither as pristine as their mother but more earthly and perhaps more beautiful for it.

And yet there was a difference, she knew; she had never once been mistaken for Victoire, despite the face that they shared so many similarities. Victoire lived in grace; she walked with it, she thought with it, and she spoke with it, and grace was perhaps the first and greatest of Dominique's deficiencies. When she was younger she had tried to imitate her sister; had paced her bedroom practicing the girl's long, fluid, dance-like strides; she had stood before her mirror throwing her hair over her shoulder in the way Victoire so often did, but any efforts to match her sister in grace, or in anything in life, had gone unaccomplished, and so she had wallowed into her nook of inferiority that life seemed to the want her to belong to.

But now, on that chilling evening when the fog hung low over London and the Muggles donned thick trench coats to ward of the frost, as she strode through the cobbled alleyways from Whitehall to Charing Cross Road, she felt anything but ordinary. The presence of Teddy Lupin seemed to have lifted her from her willowy little body and flung her into another. The idea that the passers-by would look at them – see them laugh together, see their hands graze each others as they walked – and believe them to be lovers exhilarated her. Gorgeous Teddy and gorgeous Dominique, happy and simple and easy.

Dominique had had few boyfriends in her life and those that she had had now seemed tragically feeble when measured against Teddy, who offered her his scarf and held the door of the Leaky Cauldron open for her and asked her what she would like to drink once they had found seats at the back of the crowded pub.

'I don't mind,' she replied, for her endeavours with alcohol usually occurred alone in her parents's garden with a bottle of firewhiskey and she was ignorant of what drinks were considered fashionable by people like Teddy.

'Go on, I'm buying. Mead? Pint of ale?'

'Whatever you want.'

He gave a rather teasing sigh of exasperation and grinned at her. 'I'll surprise you,' he told her, and he returned from the bar a moment later with two large goblets of steaming honeyed mead. 'Here you go. I told the bartender to put in a bit of schnapps, too. Thought it would warm us up.'

He took a seat across from her and she gave him her thanks, taking an even sip of the mead. It's warmth coursed through her shivering body but she placed the goblet back on the table, telling herself to sit on it; she could not afford to lose her wits around Teddy.

She realised suddenly, as if having been hit by a rogue bludger, that she had nothing to say to him and was swamped by a fleeting panic, only to be reassured when Teddy pondered aloud, 'I'm going to miss Hannah. That new inn-keeper doesn't give me discounts.'

Dominique nodded and took another small sip of her mead. 'Don't worry, she still owns it. She'll be back next summer.'

'Would have been nice to see her before she left for the school. She's been supplying me and the boys with ale since we were fifteen, after all – but don't tell Harry that.'

Dominique gave a giggled and watched Teddy recline in his chair, raising his hands behind his head, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt, and he asked her, 'Remember when the whole lot of us would be together every weekend? All the cousins and everyone? It's a pity that doesn't happen anymore, don't you think?'

Dominique gave a shrug. 'I suppose.'

'Remember when we were still at school and then we'd come home for the summer and every other day there'd be some big dinner for something or other at your Gran and Grandpa's?'

'Mhm.'

'And then we'd all go to the Quidditch World Cup together. Remember that year Fred and his girlfriend snuck all that firewhiskey out of his Mum's study and then he fell out of the top box?'

'How could I forget that? Angelina was livid.'

'Yeah, but the last few years hardly anybody has come along with Harry and I. Al broke my heart the day he announced he didn't like Quidditch. Same goes for you.'

'Excuse me, I never even pretended to like it.'

'Yes, but you did grow up and decide you were too cool for family dinners. Every time I've been over at Shell Cottage lately you're hiding up in your room.'

Dominique raised her goblet to her lips in the hopes of obscuring her reddening cheeks. 'Sometimes I have to take paperwork home with me.'

'Alright, alright, you're excused,' Teddy assured her. 'I just miss seeing everyone, you know? You especially.'

This information did nothing to help her reddening cheeks. She had no response and instead allowed herself to have a heaping sip of mead.

'So, how's work been anyway?' he asked her.

'Fine.'

'Dom, come on. Nobody's around.'

She placed her half-empty goblet back on the table and gave a shrug. 'I'm sure Harry's going to fire me any day now.'

Teddy scoffed. 'Don't be dim, he'd never do that.'

'He would so. I'm absolutely hopeless,' she informed her glumly. 'He only gave me the job for my parents' sake. They're utterly horrified that I hadn't decided what I wanted to do by the time I finished my NEWTs. I mean, Molly's getting pretty important in the German Ministry, and Fred's off travelling, and Victoire's practically running Gringotts now and she's only twenty-one.

'Give yourself a break. You only finished school in June. And Victoire only got that job because your dad pulled some strings at the bank.'

'Yes, but she got about three promotions within her first month,' Dominique reminded him.

'Yeah, well, Victoire's a bit of an anomaly.' He said it with a grin, but apparently the look on her face urged him to reconsider his words, and he added quickly, 'I mean, when I was eighteen I had no bloody idea what I as going to do with myself. The only reason I took this job in the Beast Division is because Nan told me she was going to sell my broomstick if I didn't pay her back for that trip me and the guys took to Greece after graduation, but I'm glad I did it now. Maybe once you get settled in you'll realise you like working for the Auror Office.'

She drained the last of her mead, set the goblet heavily back on the table, and proclaimed rather daringly, 'I _hate_ working for the Auror Office.'

He gave one of his growling chuckles before folding his arms over the table and leaning closer to reply, 'Is that so?'

'Yes, it's so. I'm the worst secretary in the world. If I had a sickle for every memo I've lost I'd have enough in the bank to retire tomorrow. Once I even managed to set fire to an incident report from Ernie MacMillan when I was trying to join the hearth up to the Floo network.'

'Yeah, well, who'd want to read a field report from MacMillan anyway?'

'Mostly I hate sucking up to people,' she informed him matter-of-factly. 'These people come into the waiting room expecting me to jump for joy when they ask me to make them a cup of tea. Do you know how many wizards have told me I should be wearing shorter robes to show up my legs since I've worked there?'

'You're joking.'

'Seven! And then when I don't immediately drag them off for a romp in the broom cupboard they look at me like I've just spat in their face!'

'That's fucked. Who said that to you? Which department were they from?' Teddy demanded, and the genuine anger in his voice surprised her enough to remember herself, and she was immediately humiliated by the aftermath of her outburst.

'I don't remember,' she muttered. 'I don't think they were Ministry workers.'

'Say something to Harry. Those pricks should be ashamed of themselves-'

'It doesn't matter,' she assured him. 'Really, I don't care. It just bothers me sometimes. Forget I said anything.' She dropped his gaze and turned her eyes to the empty goblet before her. 'I should probably get home…'

'Don't you dare. I'm getting you another drink.'

She began to protest but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and in the moment he left her sitting alone at their table she suddenly despised herself. Who did she think she was to waste his time with her pitiful babbling?

She glanced up to see him returning, levitating two pints of ale over his shoulder and clutching two shot-glasses in his wand-free hand, one of which he forced between her fingers. 'Have that.'

'No, Teddy, I shouldn't-'

'Cheers,' he told her in response, downing his own shot before dropping back into the seat across from her.

Knowing how it would look to decline, she knocked back the shot, the firewhiskey hitting her stomach with the comforting warmth she was all too familiar with.

'Good,' he told her, lowering the pints of ale onto the table top with a swish of his wand. 'Now drink up.'

'Let me pay you back-'

'Dom, just shut up and drink.'

Stifling a sigh, she took hold of her pint and pulled it towards her. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered. 'I'm wasting your night – you must be terribly bored by all this-'

'Not at all,' he assured her. 'And don't you dare think for a second that any of the problem in the Auror Office can be in any way attributed to you. Everyone knows it's always in total disarray. I mean, even Harry doesn't have any idea what's going on half the time.'

Dominique gave a heavy sigh, sipped her ale and gave a reluctant nod. 'I suppose.'

'I mean look at the state the office was in today when I came up and saw you. Everyone in administration was going completely mental.'

Dominique gave a sombre nod.

'And then there's that rumour about those two wizards dying in their cells-'

'How did you know about that?'

Teddy cocked an eyebrow at her. 'So it's true?'

'No – well, yes, it's true. But Teddy, you can't tell _anyone_ that. Please.'

'Of course not,' he assured her without hesitation. 'It doesn't have anything to do with Gamp dying, does it?'

Dominique shook her head and drank deeply from her pint. 'Harry doesn't seem to think so, or at least that's what he said in the incident report for the Head Office. But the problem is that the Auror Office was in such a state this morning that nobody bothered to check why the Head of Department hadn't turned up to work. His poor house elf had to find him dead in his study when she went into to freshen the fireplace.'

Teddy took a rueful sip of her ale. 'Blimey. That's a mess.'

'Exactly,' said Dominique, gazing into her half-finished pint. 'Teddy?'

'Yes?'

'Have you ever thought of leaving?'

'What do you mean?'

'You know, like…' She paused for thought, pondering the amber dregs of her ale as if they held the solutions to everything that had plagued her throughout in her brief little life. 'Like just apparating somewhere. Anywhere. As long as it was far away.'

'You mean like what Fred and his girlfriend did?'

'Yes, but… no, not like that. Because you wouldn't come back.'

She could feel his eyes upon her but did not have the strength to meet his gaze. Several seconds passed in which he gazed at her and she drained the last of her pint.

'Is that what you want to do?' he asked her.

'I don't know,' she murmured back. 'Maybe. I think about it sometimes. Don't you?'

He gave a shrug and sipped his ale. 'Not really. I suppose I did when I was a bit younger, but I guess I grew out of it.'

And with that the five-year age gap between them bubbled to the surface of her mind. She was a child to him, she told herself; a silly, spoilt child, throwing a tantrum. 'Oh.'

'But I do know what you mean,' he assured her. 'When my Nan invited her sister to live with her I thought about getting out of here for a while. I really hated the idea, even though I had already moved out when she started talking about it.'

'I don't blame you,' Dominique promised him darkly. 'Those awful, awful people… Just the thought of being around them makes me feel ill.'

'They're not that bad.'

'But they're Death Eaters!'

'They _were_ Death Eaters,' said Teddy slowly, 'but they came back to our side, didn't they? I mean they didn't get sent to Azkaban, and if they escaped Azkaban after all the trials then they must have been able to prove they were sorry.'

Dominique wanted desperately to agree with him – it was so easy to agree with him – and yet she could not will herself into it.

'I mean, you know Harry,' Teddy continued calmly. 'He'd hardly have let them walk free if he had any doubts about their allegiances. And honestly, if you met them you'd see how sorry they are. Even before Lucius got sick they never left their house. You can practically smell the self-loathing on them.'

'Good,' hissed Dominique.

'You've got to forgive people sometimes, Dom,' he told her softly, and the gentleness of her voice reminded her of her father, and she despised it. 'After the war Narcissa was the only family my Nan had left – except for me, I suppose, but how much comfort can a baby offer when your daughter's just died? And when Lucius fell ill they'd already sold off their house elves because after the laws changed it got harder and harder to keep them. So Narcissa really had nobody else to help her. I mean, they're sisters – it's like you and Victoire.' That name, as always, ushered in unwelcome reality, of which Teddy seemed blissfully ignorant, for he continued. 'I'm sure there's nothing she could do that would make you hate her forever.'

'No, I suppose not,' she lied.

'My Nan's a very noble person,' Teddy informed her. 'It's just the way people were raised back then. Family first, you know? And Narcissa's family, no matter what she's done in the past. She and Lucius have lost people too.'

'Have you ever seen it?'

'Seen what?'

Dominique could not find her words for the forbidden thing and so she substituted by giving a rigid jerk of arm, and his eyes whipped to her forearm.

'Oh,' he muttered. 'Yeah.'

Dominique's eyes swelled. 'What does it look like?'

'It's pretty grotesque, to be honest with you. It's so faded now you wouldn't know what it was if you didn't already know, you know what I mean? It's just this big, black smudge on his arm, but he's half-dead anyway – I know I shouldn't say that but it's true. He's even thinner than you are, and his skin just kind of hangs off him, so maybe if you saw it on someone younger you'd be able to make it out a bit better.'

'Do you ever talk to him?'

'I used to when they first moved in and I'd go round to visit, but he's hardly conscious anymore. He's been bedridden since Christmas. He doesn't have very long left, and I wouldn't be surprised if Narcissa goes pretty soon after him.'

She could not bring herself to look at him; she sat staring into her lap, awash with a mixture of guilt and shame and disgust. In a faltering voice who sought the answer to that which plagued her. 'Do you think I'm awful?'

Teddy's response came in his soft, gorgeous voice. 'Dom, what do you mean?'

His placidity didn't soothe her; had anything like malice or loathing or contempt ever crossed the mind of the man sitting before her? It seemed unlikely, and yet these were things that dominated Dominique's mind for most of her waking moments.

'For talking about them like that.'

'Dom...' His voice was a soft touch; it was firewhiskey; it was everything she had ever wanted since she was old enough to know what want was, that voice of his. 'You're the farthest thing from awful there could ever be.'

The severity in his tone caused her to look up, finding his bright, brown eyes fixed upon her in an unwavering gaze that both unnerved her and excited her, and the great desire to touch him washed her; to reach for him across the table, to feel the flesh of his bloodied hand, to know the shape of his hollow cheeks beneath her fingers tips, to trail the indentations across his chest from his arching collar-bones and over his ribcage and further onwards…

And then she caught sight of the woman who was impossible not to see in any room she entered, her scarlet robes wrapped around doll-thin frame as she strode in the pub's front door from the cold, her silvery hair seeming to illuminate even the corners of the drab room, her gleaming eyes finding the two familiar figures at the table in the back, and any electricity Dominique had felt within herself died.

'What is it?' Teddy asked at the look of her face, and he threw a glance over her shoulder to follow her line of site. 'Oh, Vicky…'

'Teddy,' gushed Victoire when she reached them, accompanied by scent of violets that she always carried with her, and the kiss she gave her boyfriend made Dominique's skin crawl, because it was the same kiss Dominique had imagined over and over again in her head as she lay awake at night. 'Dommy, what do you think you're doing stealing my man for the evening?'

Teddy laughed, as did Victoire, but Dominique could not manage it, as she was busy watching where Victoire's hands touched Teddy as she took a seat beside him, her slim, manicured fingers clutching his forearm, and as much as she tried to ignore Dominique saw him leaning into Victoire's touch.

'Ooh, look at all this,' trilled Victoire, nodding at the empty glasses that lay across the table before them. 'Teddy, you better be prepared to carry Dommy home.'

Teddy laughed again, before asking his girlfriend, 'How'd you find us?'

'Darling, how long have I known you?' asked Victoire teasingly. 'And how many times has Hannah owled me begging I come apparate you to your flat from here at three in the morning?'

'A few times, I suppose.'

'A few times?'

'Okay, Vicky, no need to embarrass me when we have company,' Teddy chortled, slinging an arm around her bony, ballerina shoulders. 'How was your day?'

'Oh, the usual. Mr Jones just will not leave me alone. The number of times he visits my office in a day – it's unbelievable. If I was his wife I'd be putting a leash on him.'

'Can you blame him? He's only human.'

'Oh, Teddy, stop,' warned Victoire, smiling that sickly smile that Dominique had watched her give him since she had learnt how at the age of eleven. 'So what's news from our great Ministry? It must have been hell over there today.'

'Yeah, Dom was just saying the office was crazy.'

'Oh, no, Dommy,' cooed Victoire, giving her sister a sympathetic pout. 'Were you able to keep up with it? Was anyone there to give you a hand?'

'I didn't need a hand,' replied Dommy tersely.

'Yes, but you must have had people coming into the office all day. Oh dear, you didn't wear that to work, did you?'

Dominique glanced down at the teal cloak she was wearing. 'What's wrong with it?'

'Oh, Merlin, Dom. Hasn't poor Harry got enough to worry about without having to think about whether or not his secretary is looking decent or not? You really must start wearing makeup to work, dear. You've got those perpetual bags under your eyes. You'll scare away anyone who comes into the office.'

'God, Vicky, I think you could do with a drink,' Teddy told her before Dominique could respond.

'Sherry, please, darling,' Victoire told him as he got to his feet. She watched him go, the exquisite smile on her face, and once he was in line to order she turned back to her sister. 'Bed time, Dommy.'

'What?'

'Dom, please, we've been working all day and we need some time together,' Victoire informed her sister matter-of-factly. 'You'll understand when you get a boyfriend.'

'I've had boyfriends before,' snapped Dominique.

Victoire gave a chiming laugh. 'They don't count, dear. You know they were all hopeless.'

'You never even spoke to any of them.'

'I can tell by looking, darling, and try as hard as you might at warding everyone off with that scowl of yours, you know you can do better. Now please, Dom. You're alright to apparate, aren't you?'

Dominique sent a glance towards the bar where Teddy had reached the front of the queue. He said something to the bartender, prompting the woman to dissolve into laughter. She could have gazed at him for hours, but Victoire's watchful eyes told her that wasn't an option, and she tore her eyes away, getting to her feet.

'Thank you, Dommy,' sighed Victoire. 'I'll take you out for tea tomorrow, okay?'

'It doesn't matter,' she murmured, and she slipped away, hurrying for the door before Teddy could catch sight of her departure.

* * *

There were many things Albus Potter disliked about his brother, and even more things he disliked about himself, and very few of those things overlapped. The things he disliked about his brother were the things most people disliked about him, and that usually encompassed his brashness, his unruliness, his arrogance and his unfortunate knack for perception that not infrequently ended in shed tears on behalf of others.

The things Albus disliked about him self were far less interesting, something along the lines of his distinct ability to be utterly ordinary spare for, of course, the uncanny number of genetic characteristics he shared with Harry Potter.

Comparatively, James Potter looked as much like Harry Potter's son as any boy with black hair, for the raven mess atop their head was where their similarities ended. James had the soft, dark skin of his father's father and a face that looked like no one in particular. His high arching cheekbones belonged to Lily Evans, and his strong, square jaw brought to mind Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Brown-doe eyes linked him to his mother and sister, who were as similar as his father and brother, while his towering stature was that of the Weasley men.

A lifetime of Quidditch left him strong and limber and he was unafraid to allow his shirt to ride up whenever he reclined in his chair to give a great yawn, exposing his dark, toned abdomen. He walked with a swaggering gait that neither his brother nor father had the vanity or carelessness to attempt, and his knack for draping himself over any armchair or table or school desk whenever he felt the desire to ease the weight of his feet gave the impression of a boy who was both perpetually lazy and perpetually at ease, not matter how much you wished him to be otherwise.

Even now, with blood smeared across his knuckles from the punch he had thrown at Burke, his chest heaving for breath, slumped against the wall of the torch-lit seventh floor corridors, was there some whisper of glee about him; some twist of a smile that pulled at his lips as he stood double-upped, mirrored by his younger brother, who was fighting to swallow as much air into his lungs as he could.

The elder Potter recovered first, straightening up, towering over his brother, raising a hand to sweep his unruly black hair from his eyes, and gave a sigh that Albus could not help but think sounded vaguely satisfied.

'You alright?'

Unable to find words through his panting breath, Albus replied with a feeble nod.

James heeded him no further concern and his dark hand dived into the pocket of his robes to withdrew the folded slip of yellow parchment, muttering to it as he gave it a tap with his wand, before unfolding the weathered map and scanning it. 'Where the hell did Finlay get to? Oh, good, he's downstairs – oi, he's there with Elise Bagman. He's supposed to be staying away from her, the git. He better not try anything…'

Albus eased himself up and fell back against the wall beside James, raising a pale, twitching hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. 'Where'd the Slytherins go?'

'Fear not, Ducky, they're on the run back to the dungeons.'

'And Malfoy?'

'Hold on… Ravenclaw tower, I guess? Wait, no… Oh, there he is, going up to the owlery.'

'The owlery?' croaked Al. 'Who does he need to send a letter to at this time of night? He's going to miss curfew.'

'Look, Al, I don't know if I've ever told you this but I'm not a mind reader. Now pull yourself together, would you? I don't want to be seen going into the common room with you when you're on the verge of a heart attack.'

James wiped the map clear and stowed it away in the pocket off his robes, before setting off down the corridor. He strode with that spring in his step he always managed to maintain, that slouching, swaggering stride that was militant and serene all at once, and Albus hurried after him, still clutching the stitch in his chest.

He fell into file with James and asked in an undertone, 'What was all that about, anyway?'

'Elise Bagman? Oh, nothing, only I bought Finlay a bottle of rum last term to stop him asking her out and he doesn't appear to be honouring it.'

'No, not bloody Elise Bagman-'

'Oi, leave her alone, she's got gorgeous legs.'

'I don't care about her legs-'

'Liar.'

'Oh, shut up, James! I'm talking about the Slytherins! I mean, did you hear what they were muttering about? Goyle seemed furious to think we'd been listening, don't you think?'

'I don't know. I try not to think about Goyle if I can help it. Bagman offers a much nicer mental image.'

'Did you read the _Evening Prophet?_ '

'There's an _Evening Prophet_ now?'

'I'm serious, James,' grumbled Albus. 'The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's been killed-'

'Seriously? Dad will be thrilled.'

'That's not funny-'

'I know it's not, I was simply stating a fact.'

'But this could be really bad,' insisted Albus. 'And if the Slytherins are involved-'

'Tell me, Ducky, do you enjoy living in a perpetual state of anxiety?' asked James matter-of-factly, and Albus fell silent, unsure of where his brother was headed. 'I mean have you ever spoken to Goyle? That kid's a bloody moron, and Rosier's a total lunatic. Tell me exactly how they could possibly be involved in murdering a Ministry official.'

'But what if they are?'

'And what if you die in your sleep tonight?' inquired James as they started up the winding staircase to their Common Room. 'What if the roof of Gryffindor tower caves in and we're all killed in an instant? What if a meteor hits the earth and Great Britain's wiped off the map? What exactly do you propose you or I do about it?'

Albus glared at his brother as they approached the Fat Lady's portrait for he was stumped for a retort, as he often was in combat with James's cyclical babbling. It was typical of James to talk of such matters so loftily; life and death and war mattered as little to the boy as their mother's reprimands or their father's sighs of dismay.

'You know the password or what?' James asked, pulling the younger Potter from his reverie.

'What? Oh, yeah. Scurvy grass.'

'Time for bed, I think, dear,' advised the Fat Lady as she swung forward on her hinges to reveal the portrait hole.

The brothers scrambled through to find the Common Room bustling with activity, more so than would generally be expected if it had not been the first night back in the castle and the students were not bristling with excitement at being reunited with their friends.

'Just my luck, Corrina Peakes is all alone,' said James, and Albus followed his eyes across the Common Room to a group of seventh year girls that sat giggling beside the fireplace.

What this meant, Albus knew, was that while the brunette was not alone in actuality, she was unaccompanied by Tessa Mishra, who James had taken the liberty of ridding himself of two days before they were intended to return to school.

'See you later, Ducky,' James told him, before he disappeared through the crowd to join the girls by the fire, and Albus was left alone to do his own scan of the Common Room. Rose, like James's ex-girlfriend, was no where to be found and, accepting that in Chandra's absence she must have already retired to bed, Albus trudged away up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, which he found blissfully absent, the other fifth years not yet having returned from their start-of-term revelling.

His trunk had been left waiting for him at the foot of his four-poster and, having checked the bathroom to ensure he was truly alone, he wrenched it open to extract his pyjamas and his journal. Once out of his robes and into his bed, he flipped open his journal to the appropriate page and began to scribble.

 _1_ _st_ _of September 2021_

 _Saw Cassie today. She didn't want to look at me._

 _Chandra is shagging Ravenclaw Quidditch captain Connor Davies._

 _Rose joins the long list of people to lose their virginities before me._

 _I think Malfoy and the Slytherins might try to murder James and I._

 _I don't think my plan is going very well._

* * *

He had become accustomed to returning to the Auror offices and finding them deserted in his many late night ventures into work, but that was not the case this evening. The Ministry bristled with activity, wizards and witches from every department darting through the corridors in a feverish attempt to reconcile the madness of the day.

He could not afford to stop despite the various attempts of co-workers to approach him for news and insight, and he did not dare to slow his pace until he found Dennis Creevey waiting for him in the Auror admissions office, wearing the same look or morbid contemplation he had throughout the day.

'What took you so long?'

'I just got here. I'd already made it home when I got the owl.'

'Well, come on. Who knows how long we've got before she starts weeping again.'

Dennis wrenched the door open and Harry paused before following him through it. His mind was still lingering in his bedroom at Hecate Hall, and he could not afford it to. He told himself Ginny would be waiting whenever he returned, as would her fury, and they could scream at each other sooner or later, but scream at each other they would.

With this harrowing though, he straightened his robes and strode through the doorway into the interrogation room. It looked identical to the dozens of interrogation rooms manned by the Auror office, occupied by a single cedar-wood desk and two stony-faced guards flanking the door. The only discrepancy was the tiny house elf that sat at the desk, knobbly elbows at the table and her long ears poking out between her long fingers as she buried her face in her hands.

'Leave us,' he told the guards, and they obeyed, leaving himself and Creevey to take seats at the desk across from the elf.

'Hello, Lula,' Harry told her, with as much warmth as he could muster at this late hour. 'It's very nice to meet you. My name's Harry Potter, and I'm the head of the Auror office.'

There was a murmur from behind the elf's hands so slight that he almost missed it.

'I'm sorry?'

The elf lowered her fingers ever so slightly to allow Harry to gaze into a pair of bulging, blood-shot blue eyes. 'I know who you is.'

There was a time when this recognition that this statement suggested may have embarrassed him, but he had been doing this job too long, and anything that stood in the way of him and reaching a punctual conclusion did no more than irk him.

'That's good, and this is my colleague Dennis Creevey. We're here to ask you a few questions about last night and see if we can help find out what happened to Mr Gamp.'

At the mention of his name the elf gave a great squeak of despair and buried her face back deeply into her hands. Dennis and Harry exchanged looks of dismay, before Harry began once more in his gentle prodding.

'Now, Lula, I understand this is a very tough time for you,' he informed the elf, 'but we really want to know who did this to Mr Gamp. You want to help us do that, don't you?'

Lula gave a great shudder before emitting a long, high sob. 'Oh, my master… my poor master…'

'Yes, Lula, I know,' said Harry, struggling to keep the impatience in his voice in check. 'But you told my staff that you had seen who had attacked him-'

'I did! I did! I know who done it! Bad mad done it!'

'Yes, and we want to catch this bad man,' urged Dennis. 'Had you ever seen him before, Lula?'

'Oh, master… my master… gone…'

'Yes, Lula, but that's why you have to talk to us,' insisted Harry. 'Your master – who hurt him?'

'Can't say… can't say. Lula must not.'

'Lula, we give you permission,' Harry assured her. 'And I'm sure Mr Gamp would say it's okay-'

'It is not okay! Not okay for Lula to say!'

Creevey opened his mouth to protest, evidently incensed, but Harry held up a hand to silence him.

'Has someone ordered you not to tell?' asked Harry gently.

'Not allowed… shouldn't tell… oh, my master…'

'Lula, please. You don't need don't need to punish yourself. If someone has told you not to tell then they're going to be in trouble, and so we can explain that you didn't have a choice. You know you'd be helping your master if you tell us who came to the house last night. Do you think you can do that?'

Lula hesitated before giving a slow, shuddering nod.

'Thank you, Lula. So can you tell us.-'

'My master!''

'Yes, Lula, exactly-'

'It was him! He is hurting him!'

'Yes but _who?_ '

'My master!'

'Yes, Lula, we know,' Harry told her with a definite bite in his voice. 'But we need to know who did it-'

'I is telling you! _He did it!_ My master!'

'Gamp killed himself?' asked Creevey incredulously. 'Are you sure?'

'No!' snapped Lula, her voice quivering with anger, and she raised a shaking hand to brandish it at Harry. 'My master – my _old master_!'

From the corner of his eye Harry saw Dennis turn to him to exchange looks of revelation, but Harry kept his eyes fixed upon the elf. 'Your former master killed Mr Gamp?'

'Yes!'

'But who's your former master?'

Lula shook her head furiously before bringing it down to hit it heavily against the table. 'Can't tell – shoudn't tell-'

'Lula, please, _who was your old master?_ '

The elf pressed her eyes shut, colour rising in her grey face as if she was threatening to burst, before she opened her mouth a shrieked, 'Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!'

Harry gazed down at the elf in astonishment, lost for words, before the elf raised her hand to the ceiling, and first there was a creak, and then there was a shuddering sound of snapping, and then with a monstrous crash and a cascade of bricks and plaster Lula had brought the ceiling down upon them.

* * *

 **Song credit:** **_She Only Loves Me When I'm There_ by Ball Park Music.**

 **A/N: I know I didn't post the previous chapter more than a week ago but I've just had all this built up in my mind for so long and I just want to get it out as soon as possible (also I have exams soon and might have to take a break from writing).**

 **Scorpius was finally around for something substantial, even though his view of Rose at the moment isn't the favourable and nor is anyone else's apparently, but I'm hoping I can change that. Several of you seem concerned about Albus, but I promise his situation won't always be so unfavourable. His luck will change very shortly.**

 **So, what did people think? Does anyone have any questions yet? Is anyone desperate to see what happens next? If so please let me know by reviewing, no matter how brief or disapproving. I promise any form of review will definitely speed up my motivates as without reviews I literally have no motivation to write.**

 **As always thank you so much for reading!**


	4. Dance Little Liar

_24/11/2016_

* * *

 ** _Dance Little Liar  
_** _She'll detect the fiction on your lips_  
 _And dig a contradiction up_  
 _And the clean coming will hurt_  
 _But you can never get it spotless_  
 _When there's dirt beneath the dirt_  
 _The liar takes a lot less time_

* * *

Awakening in Gryffindor tower, weak daybreak light creeping through the scarlet curtains, the deep breathing of her dorm-mates rising around her, was worlds away from waking beneath her parent's roof in London.

As it was each morning, she was first to wake. She slid from beneath her covers and crept to the window between her and Sally Wood's bed to peel back the curtain. The morning sky was alight with swarming red and orange clouds, stretching before her to meet the dark, shapeless peaks of the Forbidden Forest that lay at the edge of the horizon.

A familiar brush of silky fur looped round her ankle and she glanced down to find Chandra's purring tabby cat slinking between her legs, gazing up at her with expectant yellow eyes, and she thought inexplicably of her mother, who she would find in the mornings at the breakfast table, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as she scoured her ever-present piles of Ministry parchment, one hand clutching a lukewarm cup of tea and the other scratching the neck of her ancient ginger cat, and in that moment she was enveloped by the immense desire to return home to London.

'You're going to have to wait,' she informed the cat at her feet. 'She'll feed you when she wakes up.'

Once showered, dressed and having inspected her body in the bathroom mirror, she crossed noiselessly back through the dormitory and down the stairs into the Common Room, occupied only by younger students more eager to begin the school-year than older students who would savour another half hour of sleep, to find Albus waiting in his usual armchair beside the hearth, his head drooping onto his shoulder as he fought sleep, freshly-washed black hair flattened against his forehead that she knew would deteriorate into its usual unruly mess as it dried.

'Morning,' he yawned when he saw her.

'Morning.'

'Where's Chandra?'

'Sleeping. She's never been awake before eight a.m. in her life.'

'Oh.'

She ignored his disheartened look and asked, 'Where'd you get to last night?'

She watched as Albus threw a scouring look around the common room for any would-be eavesdroppers.

'Honestly, Al,' she sighed

'I don't want anyone to hear.'

'What? Should we be putting up protective charms?'

Albus hesitated, a frown playing at his pale face, and when he spoke again she caught a tremor of anxiety in his voice. 'I… On the way back to the common room last night I ran into James and Finlay.'

Rose gave him her frequently utilised looks of derision, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. 'Did that really require such digression?'

'You don't get it,' he grumbled.

'Well, if you told me that might help. What happened?'

He made another flinching glance over his should and she gave a heaving sigh of frustration.

'Spit it out, Al.'

He turned back to her, fidgeting in his seat, before telling her in one breath, 'The Slytherins caught the three of us eavesdropping on them and now I think they're going to try to murder us.'

The proclamation was enough to fault Rose's composition. 'Pardon?'

They had reached the bottom of the Marble Staircase when Albus concluded his recount of the previous evening's misdemeanours, finishing with a woeful sigh and turning wide, deploring eyes to Rose, pleading for her consolation. She was silent for a moment before asking slowly, 'And you're _sure_ that's what they were talking about?'

'Of course I'm sure! It was pretty obvious what they were on about.'

'Yes, but think about it, Al,' she began calmly as they entered the Great Hall, 'why would a bunch of fifteen year olds have any business with a plot against Gamp? If there even _is_ a plot against Gamp, which I think remains to be seen.'

'Rosie, did you even listen?' asked Albus beseechingly, dropping into a seat at the Gryffindor that put them at a safe distance from any other early diners. 'Goyle tried to Crucio James!'

At that Rose was silent, watching Albus with wide brown eyes, before asking in a small voice, 'Really?'

'Yes!'

'But he didn't?'

'Runcorn and Malfoy stopped him.

She was silent again before she reached for the dish of scrambled eggs in the centre of the table, served out a plate for each of them and told him matter-of-factly, 'If he tried to do that then that's really bad.'

'Wow, really, Rosie? I had no idea,' grumbled Albus, glaring down at his plate of eggs.

'Of course, it's not as if it would have done anything,' she told him reasonably. 'I mean he struggles to even get his cauldron boiling, let alone use magic that powerful – although it's lucky they stopped him before he could try,' she finished quickly at the look Albus gave her. 'Perhaps you should tell the teachers.'

Albus gave a furious shake of his head. 'No way.'

'Why not?'

'Because all they'll do is deny it and then what if they try to like, you know, _shut me up_ …'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'What, murder you in your sleep?'

'Goyle and Rosier were furious that we'd been listening.'

'You shouldn't worry about them,' she told him sternly. 'They're total idiots. You know they are. They were probably just trying to wind up Malfoy.'

'You don't get it,' he insisted. 'Malfoy was with them – they want him to _join them_. I mean, what if…'

'What if what, Al?'

'What if they're… Death Eaters?'

She gave him what was possibly the most severe eye roll she had ever given him. 'Albus…'

'What?'

'Those things don't happen anymore,' she assured him. 'Just because our parents are totally paranoid doesn't mean you be too.'

'Gamp and Rowle-'

'Gamp and Rowle are detested by the whole country,' she dismissed. 'They're the minority. And besides, even if Goyle and Rosier were stupid enough to try anything it's not like they'd ask Malfoy to join them. Blood-purists loathe his family even more than they do ours.'

The Great Hall was slowly filling with students, and she watched Albus throw a glance over his shoulder as a group of third-year girls took the seats beside them. He turned back to her, swallowing the argument she knew he was concocting and settling for, 'I know what I heard.'

'I'm not saying you didn't – I'm just telling you that you need to stop worrying. Whatever Goyle and Rosier are up to isn't worth your while worrying about. They're hardly going to try anything in school, so you ought to forget about it. And as for Malfoy, you've really got to stop listening to my dad whinging about his and stop trying to find reasons to hate him. Their family's been minding their own business since the war. Now would you eat something, please?'

A frown fixed on his pale face, Albus sufficed to nod and reached for his fork to take a half-hearted stab at his eggs as the fluttering of eings from above announced the arrival of the morning post.

'I hope we don't have Charms today,' said Rose thoughtfully, as a tawny owl landed before her and offered her a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. 'Lucy's forced another prefect's meeting upon us this evening and I can't bare that and Smith in the same day.'

'Another meeting?' asked Albus as Rose paid the owl. 'But you all met up on the train yesterday.'

'Yes, but she needs to know our timetables before she can organise patrols,' she explained as she shook open the paper. 'It's just my luck that the year I get made prefect is the year she's…'

But Albus had to presume the conclusion of her musings for himself, for she had fallen silent at the sight of the _Prophet's_ front page.

'Rose?' he asked shrewdly. 'What is it?'

She gave him a look that she suspected betrayed her misreading of the matter and spread the paper out on the table for the both of them to read it.

 _DRACO MALFOY ARRESTED ON SUSPICION IN GAMP MURDER INVESTIGATION_

Albus glanced up to look at his cousin, and she told him fiercely, 'That doesn't prove anything.'

'Course not,' he grumbled back, turning back to the paper to continue reading.

Ignoring him, she swivelled in her seat to cast a look across the Great Hall to Ravenclaw table, and all around the hall students were doing the same. He was easy to spot beneath his platinum blonde fringe, sitting beside his girlfriend, wearing a pained look that confirmed for her that he had already seen the headline. She tore her eyes from him to re-join Albus in poring over the article.

 _In the early hours of this morning, Aurors stormed the prestigious Malfoy Manor, the ancestral Wiltshire home of the infamous Malfoy family. Draco Malfoy was taken into custody on suspicion of involvement in the murder of Gustav Gamp, former Head of the DMLE who was found dead in his place of residence yesterday morning._

 _It is understood that a skirmish ensued, with the Auror Office turning to force when Mr Malfoy resisted initial requests to present himself to the Ministry for questioning relating to his knowledge of Gamp's murder._

 _This is not the first scandal the Malfoy family has found itself in the midst of in its long history. Known for their status as one of the last truly Pureblood families within Great Britain and its enduring anti-Muggle stance, the Malfoys played a prominent role in the Second Wizarding War. Both Draco Malfoy and his aging father Lucius Malfoy were known Death Eaters and remain some of the few who escaped imprisonment following the Post-War Trials between 1998 and 2000._

Albus shifted beside her, straightening up as he finished reading, but she refused to glance around at him for the "I told you" she knew was coming.

 _Despite criticism from the public and Ministry officials alike, the Auror Office has maintained its faith in the Malfoy family's innocence in the post-war years. Since then rumours have circulated within the Ministry that it was at the recommendation of Harry Potter that the Malfoy family should be acquitted of all charges. Mr Potter was unavailable for comment, having been admitted to St Mungo's earlier this morning._

Her stomach gave an unpleasant turn and she raised her eyes to meet Albus's. He sat rigidly in his seat, wearing the impenetrable look on his pale face that he had on the other numerous mornings in which the _Prophet_ hailed bad news for the Auror Office, before he jolted upwards and was on his feet.

'Al!' she hissed at him, but he paid her, nor the on looking students, any mind as he bolted towards the doors of the Great Hall.

* * *

There were few things that could urge James Potter to decline the promise of another hour's sleep in the morning, and the phenomenon of seeing him walk the earth at this early hour was limited to those mornings in which he was to wake in a bed other than his own beside a girl who wasn't his girlfriend.

Corrina Peakes, as nice as she was to look at from across the stretch of crimson pillow between them in her bed, paled in comparison to a sky over the castle ablaze with September sun and the immense comfort of solitude in which he revelled as he lay sprawled on the Quidditch pitch with a cigarette in hand and his Comet 380 at the crook of his elbow, until he heard the murmur of distant voices swept across the lawn by the breeze from back towards the castle, and he turned on his elbow to glance over his shoulder to see Finlay, Xan and Louis approaching from across the pitch.

'I knew you he'd be here,' he could hear Finlay tell them as they drew nearer. 'Harnessing the power of pitch to choose a new seeker, hopefully.'

'Made your get away, did you?' asked Xan conversationally as she reached him.

James took a drag of his roll-up. 'I have no idea what you could mean, Roxanne.'

'Oh, so it wasn't your loathsome form I spotted in Corrina's bed when I got up to go to the loo last night?' she asked as she and her team mates dropped down to join James on he grass.

'You're despicable,' Finlay told him, though he was grinning.

'Did you three come all the way down here to tell me that?'

'No, we came to make a game-plan,' Xan informed him, 'but I thought I'd shoot two birds with one stone and tell you you're pathetic while I'm here.'

'You better be nice to her,' Louis warned him, reaching for the tin of tobacco that lay beside James and beginning to roll himself a smoke. 'As much as I love seeing Ravenclaw get the cup, it'll start to get boring if we let it happen two years in a row.'

'Lou, I'd never touch another woman if I thought it would make any difference,' he informed the blond.

'What do you mean?' asked Xan shrewdly, as she too began to roll herself a cigarette.

'She quit,' James informed them matter-of-factly.

'You're joking!' burst Finlay.

'Nup. Says she wants to focus on her NEWTs. I'd forgotten why I didn't like her.

'So now we not only need a new seeker but a new chaser too?' asked Finlay bitterly. 'Brilliant. And I thought you three were quitting?'

Louis gave no reply other than to smoke his cigarette, while James proclaimed, 'It settles my nerves.'

'And I never said anything about quitting,' Xan informed him, 'only if I were to smoke at home Mum would hex my fingers off.'

'Well, you'll all leave beautiful corpses,' mused Finlay. 'So have you thought about replacements?'

'I've tried not too. Looks pretty dismal,' said James.

'Ewan's a good flyer,' offered Louis. 'He didn't try out last year because of OWLs.'

'No way,' James told him flatly.

'And why not?'

'Because last time one of your boyfriends was on the team you ended up duelling in the change rooms and I'd prefer not to have my robes set on fire again.'

'Oh, that won't happen this time,' Louis assured him lazily. 'Rory was very temperamental. Ewan's nothing like that.'

'I don't care. You're way overdue to dump him as it is. How long have you been together now, three weeks?'

Louis gave him one of his crooked grins from behind his cigarette, accompanied by a crude hand gesture.

'I'd watch it unless you want to start buying your own tobacco, mate.'

Finlay intervened with, 'So when are we going to hold try-outs?'

'What will try-outs do?' grumbled James. 'We saw what was on offer last year and they were all abysmal. We need to just pick someone and start training them immediately.'

'That's your plan?' scoffed Xan. 'God knows how you got captain.'

'God knows how you got prefect but miracles do happen,' he told her. 'I'll hold try-outs if it msatters that much to you, but I don't want to sit through the usual trash that come every year. I want at least some idea who we're going to get so we can keep it short. Lou, ask the guys in your dorm.'

'And I'll ask the girls in mine,' said Xan. 'There must be one you haven't trodden on yet, right?'

'Possibly,' James mused. 'I remember some altercation in a dark room with Anadia Indra back in fifth year, but I think the amount of fire whiskey consumed nullifies it. Shall we go eat?'

Xan aimed a kick at him as he got up and he gave her shoulder a vague shove before offering a hand to pull Louis up.

* * *

'Al, wait-'

'Rose, don't.'

'We don't even know if that article was right.'

'I need to check.'

'Then let's go to the owlery,' she urged, striding behind him as he hurried down the empty corridor. 'We'll owl your mum-'

'She won't be home if he's…' But he fumbled over the words into silence and quickened his pace. 'I just have to check.'

The doors of the hospital wing stood ajar, though the long room was empty for all but the school matron, it being too early in the term for students to have done themselves serious harm, who glanced up at the pair from the bed she had been making.

'Oh, hello, you two – what's happened?'

Albus, struggling for breath, could manage no more than a panted, 'Where's Neville?'

Hannah peered at him, striding towards them from across the room, wearing the look of scrutinising concern she had mastered since becoming the school's matron. 'He's inside having a cup of tea. Albus, dear, what on earth has happened?'

'I- I just need to talk to him,' he told her. 'Can I go in? Please?'

'Yes, Al, of course, but…'

Albus dashed across the hospital wing to the door that led it into the couple's adjoining quarters,, Rose and Hannah at his heels.

The Herbology teacher sat perched at the breakfast table beneath the window that gazed out at the lake, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ spread beneath a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea, and the look he gave Albus upon his entry told the boy he had already scoured the article that dominated the paper's front page.

'Albus,' he told him gently, getting to his feet, 'how are you?'

'You read it?' he asked in a shaky voice. 'The _Prophet_ – the arrest, and Dad-'

'Yes, Al, I did,' said Neville evenly, a wry smile creasing his cheeks, and he raised a steady hand to motion Albus forward to the breakfast table. 'Sit and have a cup of tea. You too, Rosie-'

'It said he was at St. Mungo's,' Albus told him. 'It said he was hurt at Malfoy Manor-'

'It didn't say that, Al,' Rose reminded him, in the seldom used tone that was the closest she ever came to sounding gentle. 'It just said he wasn't available for comment-'

'It said he was at St. Mungo's,' he snapped at her, a bite in his voice that was as rare for him as reassurance was for Rose, 'and I need to go see him – I need to talk to him.'

'But if we just owl your mum-'

' _No,_ Rose-'

'Al, come on,' said Neville soothingly, 'would you please sit down? I just made a pot and you've got time before class-'

'I'm not going to class,' he proclaimed, his panic shifting to allow a sprouting of anger. The look of relentless calm on Neville's face did nothing but propel his anger. 'Dad's hurt and I've got to talk to Mum and it could take all day for her to owl me and the common room fire places aren't connected to the Floo Network but the professors' are so… so can I use your fireplace? Please?'

Neville seemed to consider him for a moment, wearing a look sombre contemplation that was hauntingly similar to his father, before he gave a nod. 'Of course, Al. But quickly, because you better get to class. It's alright, Hannah, you go. I can do it.'

Hannah, who had moved towards the fireplace to tend to it, gave her husband a raised-eyebrowed look of uncertainty before she resigned to nod and bustled from the room, giving Albus's shoulder a quick brush with her hand as she did so that made him feel more like a patient than anything else.

Moments later, Neville was kneeling over emerald flames in the hearth, before he got to his feet and ushered Albus forward.

'Now, she may not be home, you know,' Neville reminded him gently. 'But if she isn't it probably just means she's out.'

'Okay.'

'Don't let yourself jump to conclusions, okay?'

'Okay,' Albus murmured, but his heart was already beating hard enough to make his whole body quiver. He hobbled over the to the fireplace, feeling Neville gazing down upon and knowing Rose had her eyes fixed upon him from where she stood hovering by the breakfast table. He dropped onto his knees and, with a deep breath, plunged his head into the emerald flames.

'Hecate Hall, Godric's Hollow,' he instructed of the fireplace, before he was enveloped by the sickening spinning sensation he had been anticipating. He pressed his eyes shut, wincing through dizzying rotation before stability returned and he opened his eyes to see his kitchen before him.

Ignoring the unsettling quiet of the house, he called out into the kitchen, 'Mum! Hello? Mum!'

No reply came, and his heart began to beat faster than he thought it could ever muster.

'Mum! Mum, are you there? Mum-'

And then he heard hurried footsteps and the creaks that he knew could only belong to the old staircase that led into the manor's upper floors.

'Al?' he heard his mother's voice, distant and unmistakably on edge, before she came into view across the room in the doorway, donned in her dress-robes and her long hair swept up into a neat bun, her face pinched with panic. 'Al, what's happened? Are you alright?'

'I saw the _Prophet_ ,' he told her in one breath. 'Dad – St Mungo's-'

And in an instant the panic across his mother's freckled face was swept away by the look of impatience she often wore when giving James one of his frequent reprimands.

'Oh, Al,' she said with a sigh, crossing to the fireplace to stand over him. 'How many times have we told you not to listen to what the paper says about our family?'

Albus gazed up at her in bemusement, and the murmur of dismay his mother gave told him his face exposed this.

'Your dad's fine,' Ginny told him. 'There was some accident at the office. You know the Ministry insists on admitting staff to St Mungo's no matter how minor the injury is. He's going straight back to the office as soon as the healers let him.'

'So... so he's… he's okay?'

'Yes, Al, of course he is. I don't know how many times I've told you that if something happens, you and James and Lily are going to be the first to know.'

'I know but…' He suddenly felt terribly foolish, thinking of Neville and Rose waiting for him to return the news. 'The _Prophet_ said-'

'The _Prophet_ is full of rubbish. You know that.'

'You write for them!'

'The sports section,' she told him rather defensively. 'I can't stand any of their political nonsense. He wasn't even at Malfoy Manor. There was some skirmish in the interrogation room.'

'So... so you're going to see Dad now?'

'No, I'm working today,' she told him. 'He might have been emitted by now. I haven't spoken to him. Dennis just let me know what was going on.'

'Oh,' was the only reply Albus could muster.

Ginny paused for a moment, gazing down at her son with a look that Albus thought may be somewhat pitying. 'I'll have him write to you, okay?'

'He doesn't have to.'

'Well, he'll want to,' she assured him. 'He knows how to look after himself, your dad. You don't need to worry, Ducky, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Have you had breakfast?'

'No.'

'Well, you should go eat something. It's your first day back.'

'Okay.'

He watched his mother straighten her robes before she asked, 'Are you using Neville's fireplace?'

'Yeah, I came and asked if I could.'

'Could you tell him I want to talk to him for a minute?'

Albus knew what her intentions were, and he gave her a nod. 'Okay. Bye, then.'

'Bye, Ducky. Have a good first day, won't you?'

'I hope work's okay.'

'Thank you, darling. And let Neville know, please.'

He gave her another nod, returned the kiss she blew him, and, shutting his eyes, pulled his head from the flames. Opening them he found himself back in the Longbottoms' office, Rose watching from across the room, brows knitted together, and Neville standing over him with a hand offered to help him up. He got to his feet and dusted the soot of the fire off of his front, murmuring with downcast eyes, 'Dad's fine. They just sent him to St Mungo's for a check up.'

Rose gave a deep sigh of relief, seeming to emit more air than lungs could comfortably hold, and Neville gave him a great clap on the back.

'Good! That's great, Al. Told you, didn't I? Your dad's too stubborn to let anything get the best of him.'

Albus gave another one of his weak nods. 'Mum wants to talk to you.'

'Oh, she does?' said Neville, glancing towards the fireplace with a look that told Albus he too knew that Ginny had not approved of his enabling of her son's anxieties. 'Well, I best pop in for a chat. I've got your timetables over there on the desk if you want to grab them.'

'Thanks, Neville,' said Rose.

'Yeah, thank you,' murmured Albus. 'And I – thanks.'

'It's no worries, Al,' Neville assured him, giving him another clap on the back, before he dropped to his knees and plunged his head into the fire.

Ginny's voice could be heard in an instant, unintelligible but loud enough to reach them through the fireplace, and they exchanged looks before crossing to Neville's desk to collect their timetables.

'So he's okay?' Rose asked once they were out in the corridor on their way back to the Great Hall.

'He's fine. He wasn't even at Malfoy Manor. It was just some office accident,' Albus told her flatly. He felt inexplicably awful in the wake of speaking to his mother. Of course he had panicked; of course she had dismissed him. Rose had been right, as had Neville, and no doubt James and Lily would have passed over the article with no panic at all.

'Well, that's good,' said Rose, and the insistence in her voice told him she had read the morbid look on his face. 'The _Prophet's_ full of shit. I don't know why I bother to read it, honestly. They make up all these rumours just to sell more copies.'

'That's what Mum told me.'

He could feel Rose looking at him with her shrewd, watchful eyes but refused to glance back at her as they walked. They took the passageway that would lead them to the entrance hall and Rose opened up her timetable. She gave it a scan and said in what he knew was a bid to break the silence, 'Oh, damn, we've got Charms first with the Ravenclaws.'

Albus opened his mouth to reply, but fell silent at the drawling voice he heard reach them from around the corner in the next passageway.

Rose seemed to have heard nothing, and continued to tell him, 'I don't know how they let an idiot like Smith teach-'

' _Shut up!'_

'What – Al, watch it!' she snapped at him, as he took a firm hold of her arm and pulled her up against the wall of the passageway.

'What's the matter with you-'

' _Shh, listen!_ '

Rose fell silent, pressed against by Albus's arm, waiting to catch what he was strianing to listen to.

'Scorpius, you are being such an idiot!'

' _Oh, not this, Al_ ,' Rose hissed at him, but he gave her hand a pinch to quell her into silence as Scorpius spoke again.

'Look, Zaina, you don't know what you're talking about-'

'You know Professor Karim kicked Kienan off the Quidditch team for getting too many detentions?' came the shrill, fiery voice of Scorpius's girlfriend from around the corner.

'What does that have to with anything?'

'Because you're going to get caught!' Zaina shot at him.

'Zaina, I told you, that's not where I'm going-'

'You don't even know how to apparate! What do you think you're going to do?

'Would you calm down?'

'God, you're being such a baby! He hasn't even been charged with anything yet so I don't know why you're so upset-'

'Look,' Scorpius snapped at her, suddenly vicious, 'you don't know what you're talking about, so I'd stop if I were you.'

There was silence in which Rose and Albus exchanged glances, before it was broken by the sharp, quick footsteps and Zaina's snarl of 'Scorpius, don't you dare walk away from me!' before the Ravenclaw rounded the corner to almost collide with the Gryffindors. The pair of them gazed up at Scorpius and he gazed back, and Albus felt his hand flinch towards his wand before Rose caught his wrist in an act of restraint.

'Scorpius!' thundered Zaina, rounding the corner after Scorpius, and her face flushed as she caught sight of Gryffindors. 'Oh, listening in were you? That's nice.'

'Can't a person walk down a corridor anymore?' retorted Rose.

'Oh, yes, a nice walk pinned up against the wall enjoying my conversation with my boyfriend,' cooed Zaina in voice that bristled with rage. 'Don't you have anything better to do?'

'What, like bicker with my boyfriend for the whole school to hear?'

'Only those sad enough to skulk around corners listening in,' snapped Zaina, and she laid a hand on Scorpius's arm. 'Come on, Scorp.'

Scorpius did not appear to hear her. His was watching Albus unblinkingly as the Gryffindor glared back up into the Ravenclaw's sharp, grey eyes that seemed full of the same venom in his girlfriend's voice. Rose's grip did nothing to deter Albus's fingers hovering over his wand, and with his eyes fixed on Scorpius he knew that the boy was thinking the same, before, in one fluid motion, he shrugged of Zaina's hand and pushed past them down the corridor.

'Scorpius!' Zaina barked at him, but if he heard her he gave no sign of it.

'Albus,' muttered Rose again, tugging at his arm. 'Come on, we should go wake Chandra up.'

He cast Scorpius's retreating figure one last look before he gave her a nod and allowed her to lead him past a rigid Zaina who, by the stony look on her face, had never been the recipient of such an affront in her life.

* * *

The Maximillian Crowdy Ward was perhaps the only one of St Mungo's wards which, in Ron Weasley's opinion, was suitable for any individual in the midst of recovering from whatever form of ailment, and he and his family had only been allowed to grace its floors due to the Orders of Merlin attached to their names. It was perhaps the only space within the establishment lacking the characteristic babble, chatter and overcrowding, and on this particularly visit he found the place unoccupied for all but one patient who had been afforded the widest and brightest private room on offer.

'Looking good,' he gave as his greeting as he strode through the door.

The bed's occupant glared at him with heavily bruised eyes and a cumbersome amount of dressing wrapped around his head. 'Shut it.'

'You alright, mate?' he asked as he reached the bed, giving Harry's shoulder a slap of consolation.

'I'll be better once I'm out of here,' said Harry. 'Is twelve hours observation for some bruising really necessary?'

'I don't know if you've looked in the mirror this morning but it seems a bit worse than bruising,' chortled Ron. 'Are they at least going to take your bandages off before you go?'

'They don't have a choice. Once you sign me out I'm in your hands, not theirs.'

'Oh, yeah, do you want to tell me I had to close the shop to come sign you out? Where's Ginny during all of this?'

Harry did not answer immediately, but raised his wand and gave it a few sharp swipes to sever the tightly bound dressing encasing his temple. 'She's covering the match today.'

Ron gave a murmur of distaste. 'She's going all the way up to Barra to cover the Catapults and the Tornadoes? They're at the bottom of the ladder! Thought that would be below her.'

'I suppose not,' said Harry, giving a vicious flick of his wand at the last of the bandages and managing to whip off a good chunk of hair at the back of her head. 'Damn it.'

Ron watched him set about fixing the damage before saying lightly, 'Not happy about getting woken in the middle of the night to hear you've put yourself here again, is she?'

Harry gave a sharp flourish of his wand and vanished the remnants of the bandages and said in a grumble, 'Seems that way.'

'Don't mind her, mate. Everyone's a gone a bit mad after yesterday. Popped in to the Burrow last night for a cup of tea after work and spent the next three hours trying to convince Mum they didn't need to get a Secret Keeper again. And Hermione seemed alright yesterday until she heard about the poor elf.'

Harry rounded on Ron with narrowed elf. 'Gamps elf? But she's alright, isn't she?'

Ron goggled at him. 'They didn't tell you?'

'Tell me what?'

'Well, she… she died.'

' _What?_ '

'Yeah, from her injuries. Shit, I thought you would have been told. I mean of course they were going to get you and Creevey out first but they didn't reach her in time… Hermione was furious. Came home in tears. She was gone this morning before I woke up. She reckons they still don't think elves should have the rights we do. Seems she's right, I suppose.'

Ron trailed off, peering at Harry as he wordlessly gathered up his robes from the dresser in the corner of the room. Harry drew the curtain around his bed and began changing, Ron waiting in silence before he told him through the curtain, 'Sorry, mate… I really thought you would have been told.'

'Yes, so did I,' replied Harry, emerging fully dressed a moment later..

'Funny to think that it's still like that in some households, isn't it?' sighed Ron. 'I mean, an elf rather do herself in than live without her master.

'It's not just that,' said Harry, in a strained voice that told Ron exactly how unwelcome this revelation had been. 'She said she saw Malfoy kill him.'

'You're joking?' spluttered Ron. ' _That's_ why he's been taken in for questioning?'

'She saw him do it and she used to belong to his family. That's why she killed herself. She knew she wasn't supposed to tell us that.'

'Malfoy,' hissed Ron with an incredulous shake of his head. 'The bloody fool. What the hell would he want with killing Gamp?'

Harry shook his head, possessing no other answer, and pulled on his cloak.

'Thought Malfoy would have no problem with the foul rubbish Gamp and his lot spew out,' said Ron darkly. 'Right little prick he is. He thinks hiding away in his manor house is going to make us all forget what he did.'

'Well, we've all got manor houses these days.'

'Yeah, but you and I don't have a bloody snake on our arms,' grumbled Ron. 'God, this stuff gets me depressed. Come round for dinner next week. You and Hermione deserve some pleasure in your life. Dean and Parvati will be there. George and Angelina. Luna and Rolf will bring the twins. Neville said he and Hannah would try to drop in if they could get away from the school.'

Harry gave a grin and I nod. 'I think I could do with that.

'So if the elf's not there to testify before the Wizengamot, you're going to have to get some other evidence, aren't you?'

'That's what I'm off to do now,' Harry told him as he started for the door. 'I told Dennis he's not allowed to talk to him without me. I want to see what he has to do about it.'

'You're going into work now?' asked Ron. 'Blimey, Harry, you're worse than my wife.'

Harry gave him a grim smile, fastened his cloak, and strode out of the room with Ron at his side.

* * *

'He didn't?' asked Chandra in a horrified whisper. ' _The Cruciatus Curse_? Oh, Merlin… He couldn't have… Oh, that's horrible. Is James okay?'

'Malfoy and Runcorn stopped him before he could cast the curse,' Albus told her in an undertone, glancing up the corridor to be sure their classmates had not ventured to near enough to listen.

Chandra gave a gasp. 'Oh, wow. That was very brave of them. I would have no idea how to stop a curse like that.'

'It wasn't like that,' Albus informed her. 'They just told him not to so they wouldn't all get in trouble. They're all in on it together.'

Chandra gaped at him. 'Oh, no. Oh, that's terrible. You don't really think so, do you? Rosie, do you think it's true?'

Rose gave a shrug. 'I think they were just showing off.'

'But what about Draco Malfoy getting arrested?' said Albus. 'And now his son's sneaking off to go see him!'

'He is?' asked Chandra nervously.

'That's what Faheem seemed to think.' He gestured up the passageway where the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were waiting at the classroom door. 'And he isn't here now.'

'Even if he is trying to sneak out, it doesn't mean it has anything to do with Gamp,' Rose told him tiredly.

'But it _might_ ,' insisted Albus.

'What if the Slytherins come after you, Al?' squeaked Chandra. 'You should really tell the teachers, Al.'

'Don't bother, Chandra,' Rose advised. 'He's not going to do it.'

Chandra glanced at Rose before shuffling up beside Albus, close enough for him to catch the scent of her hair, before he felt his heart jump into his throat as she closed her fingers around his wrist and whispered, 'You better be really, really careful, Al.'

Rose gave a huff of derision. 'Please, Chandra, don't wind him up.'

But Chandra gave no sign of hearing, gazing up at Albus with bright, brown eyes that he felt somehow he had never seen properly until now, and he wondered if his skin beneath her fingers felt as hot as his face did.

'You will, won't you, Al?' she pleaded in an urgent murmur.

He swallowed heavily and opened his mouth, willing his lips to work. 'I…'

'Thomas, you can climb on top of Potter on anybody's time but mine,' came the snaring voice of Zacharias Smith as he appeared from around the corner, accompanied by his usual scowl and the gleaming spot on top of head his where the torchlight glinted upon his bald patch.

A chorus of laughter rattled around them from their classmates as Chandra dropped his hand, springing away from him as if receiving an electric shock. She hurried away, Rose at her side fixing Smith with a venomous glare as he opened the classroom door. The students trailed in after him, Albus very aware of the piercing glare Connor Davies was shooting his way.

He took a seat at the back of the classroom and Chandra and Rose went to join him before Smith called from the front of the classroom, 'Weasley, Thomas: separate. Do you think I'd forget our rule after the summer?'

Rose gave a rolled of her eyes and made to cross the room, but Smith interrupted her once more.

'No, Weasley, you stay there. Thomas, over here. I don't want to risk you next to Potter.'

Another bristle of laughter from around the room scored Chandra's scuttle across the room and Albus watched her go, feeling terribly guilty and then blisteringly furious as he turned his eyes to watch Smith scribbling on the blackboard. The Professor turned back to the classroom, gesturing towards the blackboard where he had written in smugly flourishing handwriting _Ordinary Wizarding Levels,_ watching them with his narrow eyes to gauge their response as if he had just scribed for them a charm to will a soul into immortality.

'OWLs,' he spat at them. 'Do you all understand what these exams mean for your future?'

It did not matter how many times he posed to the class these maddeningly rhetorical queries or how many times he was met by blank stares; their silence never failed to rile him.

'Well, do you?'

'Yes, Professor,' they sang back to him.

'No, you don't,' he retorted. 'Because they _are_ your future. Any job you ever wished for yourself while lazing around in your common room, know that it is not attainable if you cannot pass even these most basic tests of your magical ability. If you have not yet mastered what seemed to be a much-coveted secret of _how to write an essay_ and _how to complete the homework_ set for you then I suggest you do so now. Judging by the performance of previous year levels in their Charms OWLs, I have been much too lenient with you all.'

 _Or perhaps_ , thought Albus bitterly, _they failed their exams purely to spite you_.

'And that is why this year I will not be tolerating any slack. If you fail to attend my classes, I will not permit you to attend your exams. If you fail to return homework before the deadlines I set for you, I will not permit you to attend your exams. If I see your grades lagging as a result of pure failure to follow my instruction and direction, I will not permit you to attend your exams. Is that understood?'

There was a murmur of "yes, Professor" from around the classroom.

'Good,' said Smith. 'Davies, where is Malfoy?'

Davies glanced up at the professor and then around the classroom, apparently only just registering Scorpius's absence. 'I don't know, Professor.'

'You didn't see him in your dormitory?'

'Er… I didn't really check.'

'I see. Well you can tell him that unless he is curled up in the hospital wing waiting for death to come, he will be attending each and every one of my classes if he intends to sit his Charms exams this year. Understood?'

'Yes, Professor,' grumbled Davies.

'Good.' He turning back to the blackboard and began to scribble. 'Now take out your books and copy this down – _carefully._ '

Albus shot a sideways glance towards Zaina Faheem, the seat beside her usually occupied by her boyfriend tellingly vacant, and Albus gave a glance to Rose. Her eyes flickered towards him and her frown told him that she too was wondering where Scorpius Malfoy was, and what business he had missing the first class of the year.

* * *

He could not recall the last time he had been in such close proximity to Draco Malfoy but he knew, guided by the new lines on the man's pointed face and the thinning of the silvery hair upon his scalp, that it had been many years, and yet his scowl had not changed, fixing Harry with a probing glare as he entered the interrogation room.

'Mr Malfoy,' began Dennis, 'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.'

'Six hours,' snarled Malfoy, and the livid drawl could have been plucked out of their schoolyard bickering. 'Six hours I've been locked in here at the mercy of your convenience. I hope you realise I'll be complaining to your Head of Department.'

'Well,' began Harry, as he and Dennis took seats across from Malfoy, 'the Head of Department is a good friend of mine, so I wouldn't waste your time if I were you.'

It seemed to Harry that he might as well have spat in Malfoy's face. It contorted into a scowl, the new lines that Harry wasn't familiar with coursing across his pale skin. 'How dare you-'

'Let's take it easy,' said Dennis slowly, raising a hand to signal Malfoy into silence. 'You can do whatever you like once we're finished here, Mr Malfoy, but for now we're entitled to ask you whatever we choose, and afterwards we may refer your to the Wizengamot for the administration of Veritaserum if we deem in necessary, but I'm sure you're familiar with the process.'

Malfoy gazed at Dennis with piercing, grey eyes, before his scowl weakened slightly and he told them in a strained voice, 'I told your arresting officers I have an alibi.'

'Yes, and we're in the midst of following that up,' Dennis told him. 'Of course, with your alibi being your wife and your mother-'

'And my aunt,' said Malfoy hurriedly. 'Andromeda Tonks. My wife and I were with her all evening, until the very early hours of the morning. She'll confirm that.'

'Your aunt doesn't make the most compelling alibi-'

'You know her,' Malfoy insisted, turning in his seat to face Harry. 'You know she wouldn't lie for me.'

'We've taken note of your alibi, Draco,' said Harry calmly. 'It is yet to be either confirmed or debunked, so while my officers get onto that it will make things easier for everyone involved if you explain to us your exact movements on the night of the thirty-first. Don't you agree?' He took Malfoy's silence for consent, and he continued. 'What time did you arrive at the Tonks household?'

Malfoy hesitated, weighing his options, before muttering, 'Around quarter to ten.'

'Until when?'

'My wife and I returned home close to five in the morning. My wife had just gotten to sleep when she was woken by your officers demanding entrance to our property before daylight hours.'

'You can include all of that in your complaint to my superior,' Harry told him, scribbling out notes into his pad. 'And the reason for your visit to the Tonks household?'

'My mother and father have been living with Andromeda Tonks for the past two years,' Malfoy told him coolly. 'But you already know that.'

'Yes, I do, but I was referring to this specific visit,' said Harry. 'Ten at night until five in the morning. Those are very odd hours to pop over for a visit, don't you think?'

The baleful scowl returned, and it was several seconds before Malfoy told him in a biting voice, 'I've already explained this your officers.'

'Well, you now you can explain it to us now,' said Dennis.

Malfoy's eyes flickered between the two Aurors before he shifted in his seat, pressing his hands together as if searching for something that was not there, and when he spoke again Harry thought he sounded oddly deflated. 'My father passed away two nights ago. The night Gamp died.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Dennis replied.

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy gave a thankful nod. 'He had been ill for a long time. We knew it was coming, but my mother didn't take it well. He died at half past eleven and my wife and I stayed with her for the rest of the night until she could sleep. My father's healer can confirm this. Lucinda Smethwyck.'

'We'll be sure to check with her,' Dennis told him.

'Is there anything else?' asked Malfoy callously. 'My wife is waiting for me at home, having had her house stormed by Aurors, and I would like to assure her that I will be coming home this evening.'

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves,' Dennis advised. 'We need to confirm your alibis and then we can permit your release, but that's not to say that we will not call upon further if we see it necessary. Does that sound reasonable?'

'No, it does not!' Malfoy snarled, rising in his seat as if propelled by his anger. 'My wife is- my wife is _worried_ , and she does not respond well to stress, and I need to get back to her!

'Mr Malfoy,' began Dennis gently, 'I promise you we are immensely sympathetic to the strain this is causing for your family at this difficult time-'

'Like hell you are!'

'- but just as you have a duty to reassure your wife, we have a duty to find Mr Gamp's murderer and hold him accountable,' finished Dennis calmly, as if no interruption had occurred.

'Like you give a damn who killed him,' muttered Malfoy darkly, settling his eyes upon Harry. 'You're as thrilled to see him gone as all of the other Muggle-lovers.'

'I should tell you, Draco, if you're trying to win any favours from us you're not going about it too well,' Harry informed him, and he turned to Dennis and asked, 'Are we done for now?'

'Yes, I think so.'

And with that they drew themselves up, feeling Malfoy's glinting eyes following them, and strode from the interrogation room, the guard securing the door after them.

'Harry!'

He glanced up the corridor to see Hermione hurrying towards him, looking particularly flustered with blotches of red clear in her cheeks.

'What's happened now?' he asked her flatly.

'Harry, I'm sorry, I need you right now – I'm sorry, Dennis…' And she seized hold of Harry's arm and began to steer him back to the corridor that led to the senior offices. 'It's Rowle – he's in my office. Oh, Harry, it's just a mess…'

She bustled him down the passageway to her office with such speed and force that he felt at risk of tripping, before they arrived at her office and she wrenched open the door. She was in the process of packing her belongings in preparation for her relocation into the Department Head's office, her bookshelves bare and a multitude of large boxes stacked against the walls ready to be moved. Only her desk remained unchanged, if not for the man seated in front of it.

Mikhael Rowle was a man who, no matter how hard one might hope for the contrary, was not easily forgotten. Standing at well over six foot, broadly built and with sleek blonde hair that sat in a neat ponytail at the back of his head, he was not all together unpleasant to look at, but it was the sneering gaze somewhere between a snarl and a smirk that foreshadowed his snide manner and slithery spiel long before he uttered a word that confirmed for people that he was no a pleasant man.

'Mr Potter,' he said in the low hiss that was perhaps as close he would ever come to sounding welcoming, wearing his twisted half-smile. 'How are you?'

'Fine,' replied Harry, ignoring the man's offered hand and turning to Hermione. 'What's going on?'

'Sit down, Harry,' Hermione told him rather breathlessly, crossing around her desk to take a seat across from Rowle.

Harry did as he was instructed, overtly conscious of Hermione's avoidance of his eyes and the imposing smile playing and Rowle's lips. 'So what is it?'

Hermione seemed to hesitate before telling him in a rather shrill voice, 'You're going to have to release him.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Harry, we have to. There was another attempted break in at Gamp's house.'

'You're joking,' said Harry. 'I've got twenty-five Aurors stationed there-'

'They didn't get in, of course,' she assured him. 'But somebody definitely gave it a go – a gouging charm used on the west fence. It wasn't any use with all the protective charms we've got around the place, and whoever tried it must have disapparated immediately once they knew they weren't getting in, but it means that whoever we're looking for is still out that.'

'We have a witness placing him at the scene,' Harry reminded her.

'His alibis check out, Harry.'

'What, his wife and his mother? As if they're reliable.'

'Andromeda too, Harry,' said Hermione pressingly. 'And the healer who was tending to Lucius Malfoy. He died just when Draco said he did.'

'So then Lula was lying then, was she?' he countered.

'Oh, come now, Mr Potter,' said Rowle in what could have been called a chortle if it had belonged to a man with any shred more humanity in his voice. 'You know how these elves are. They get a bit silly when it comes to things like this. They don't process things the way we do, you see. It must have misunderstood.'

'It's not a matter of her misunderstanding,' Hermione told him coolly. 'She was in an immense state of grief and was trying to recall memories from the most traumatic night of her life. And of course in the dark she may not have seen the intruder clearly. Not to mention she had the whole Ministry pressing down on her for answers.'

'Ah,' murmured Rowle, slowly and triumphantly, 'but you agree that it was not Draco Malfoy she saw at Gamp's Manor?'

Hermione gave no response, and Rowle continued. 'And as the elf's testimony – which, really, I think should be discarded as it was evidently not in the right state of mind – was the only piece of evidence linking Mr Malfoy to the investigation, I think it would be wise of you to follow orders and release him before we are all made to face the errors of your judgment.'

'So Lula drives herself to suicide in order to tell us the identity of her master's killer and we're just going to ignore her information?' demanded Harry.

'She's an elf, Mr Potter, nobody understands how their minds work.'

'I think the elves have a pretty good idea,' snapped Hermione, 'but we're not here to discuss that. Harry, you need to let him go. He has grounds to make a serious complaint as it is.'

'And we have grounds to charge him with murder,' snapped Harry. 'If Lula's information had been given before the Wizengamot that would have been enough to get them to convict.'

'But, Mr Potter, the information was _not_ given before the Wizengamot,' contended Rowle. 'There was no Veritaserum, no follow-up interrogation, nothing to support it's claims. Nothing but you and Mr Creevey.'

'Are you accusing us of lying?' demanded Harry.

'I would never do such a thing to a colleague, Mr Potter,' Rowle assured him without hesitation. 'But I am aware – as are many others in our department – that this current administration has been in favour of putting those with certain leanings in positions of power, and there may be some degree of prejudice toward those from Pureblood families.'

Harry opened his mouth to bark back, but Hermione beat him to it. 'Excuse me, Mikhael,' she began hotly 'are you saying that Harry and I are looking to use Draco Malfoy as a scapegoat?'

'Oh, Mrs Granger, I wouldn't dream of it,' he assured her jovially. 'You're not to blame, of course. The Minister, as brilliant as he is, has always had some affinity for Muggles and Muggle-borns, and it only natural that he would feel some need to elevate them. But the war was a long time ago now and it is necessary for Mr Shacklebolt and his allies to put aside your bigotry-'

' _Our bigotry?'_ growled Harry incredulously. 'Don't you dare to talk to me about bigotry, Rowle-'

'Harry...' hissed Hermione warningly.

'I'd listen to your superior if I were you, Mr Potter,' Rowle told him calmly, and his thin lips twisted into a deeper leering smile. 'It's time we even the footing between Muggle-borns and Purebloods, and I will not allow Draco Malfoy to be profiled based on his blood status-'

' _Blood status_?' bellowed Harry 'We have a witness placing him at the scene!'

'Harry, stop it!'

'Hermione, are you listening to him?'

'Yes, I am,' she replied coolly. 'And I don't think I need to tell you, Mikhael, that I am profoundly worried to hear what you're saying. Suggesting that Purebloods need to somehow take back their power – I don't want to see that kind of rhetoric return to the Ministry, and I will not accept it in my office or in the DMLE, as least while I'm in charge.'

'Oh, forgive me, Mrs Granger,' cooed Rowle. 'The last think I want to do is cause ill rest in the department just as you're trying to consolidate your leadership. Please believe me when I say I'm here to assist you, and I feel that the best assistance I can give right now is offering a voice to the Pureblood community who have felt disillusioned in recent year and, perhaps, even in danger. Especially at a time when prominent Pureblood figures are being targeted.'

'We have no evidence that Gamp's murder was in any way related to blood status,' Hermione told him tersely.

'Ah, and that is why I believe that I am a necessary presence in your administration. It always helps to have an outsider to offer a different perspective, don't you agree?'

The smile he gave Hermione stirred something deep within Harry and, standing rigidly over Rowle, he felt his fingers flinched towards his wand. Hermione's eyes darted to his hand before meeting him with a pleading look, but the exchange went unnoticed by Rowle, who has pulled himself to his feet and said mildly, 'I'll go have the guards release Mr Malfoy, shall I?'

'Be sure to inform him that he is still a person of interest,' instructed Hermione. 'He is not the leave the country.'

'Of course, of course, Mrs Granger,' Rowle assured her, starting towards the door. 'And a good day to you, Mr Potter.'

Harry did not reply but watched the man go, and barely was he out of the room than Harry flicked his wand and the door slammed heavily shut.

' _Mrs Granger_ ,' spat Hermione, imitating Rowle's low, silky drawl. 'My god, he is _foul. Trying to consolidate your leadership_. How _dare_ he? Oh, I can't even… How are you feeling, anyway? When did they release you?'

'I'm going to Kingsley,' was the only reply he gave her. 'I'm not working with him – no way in hell.'

Hermione gave a long sigh and seemed to sink back in her chair. 'We have to, Harry.'

' _Hermione, did you hear him-'_

'Yes, Harry, I heard everything you did,' she retorted. ' _Put aside our bigotry –_ he is just loathsome.'

'Then let's go tell Kingsley-'

'Not yet,' she told him firmly. 'Everything he said is true-'

'Hermione!'

'No, it is! You know it is! Because that's exactly what Purebloods think! They think Muggle-borns and blood traitors have taken over the Ministry and the Purebloods are the new minority. And if we have Rowle removed it's just going to prove to them that you and I shouldn't be in positions of power.'

'I can't work with him,' Harry told her flatly. 'I can't – I nearly cursed him right then.'

'Then you need to get over yourself.'

'Excuse me?'

'I'm serious, Harry. You need to be careful. He knows you detest him, and he doesn't think very highly of you. If Malfoy makes a complaint about the arrest – which you know he will – Rowle's going to make sure you and I take all the blame. So please, Harry – _be careful_.'

* * *

There was a pre-dinner ritual that occurred in the evenings in their usual corner of the Gryffindor common room at an hour when the waning sun cast the walls in a dreamy orange. Rose would be reading, Albus would have his journal propped open in front of him and Chandra would shuffle her weathered tarot cards and spread them across the floor with a religiousness that Rose couldn't decide was either naïve or admirable, before turning eager eyes upon her and Albus and asking, 'Who wants to go first?'

'You can, Al,' said Rose without looking up from her book.

Albus was scribbling furiously in his journal, and it took a little nudge from Chandra to bring his forth from his reverie.

'Huh? Oh, no, Rose, you go first,' he told her before returning to his feverish writing.

'I'm reading. I'll go after you.'

Albus tore his eyes from his journal to glance at the book she had open before her. ' _The Tale of Two Cities?_ Haven't you read that before?'

'Yes, because I like it. Hence why I want to read it again if you'll let me.'

'But you've got your prefect meeting,' he reminded her. 'You better go soon.'

'Oh, yes, you're right, Al!' cried Chandra. 'Come on, Rosie, we better hurry.'

Her fate sealed, she snapped shut her book and slid from her armchair to join Chandra on the floor, shooting Albus a withering look as she did so.

'Okay, now, split the deck,' Chandra instructed of her, twirling a lock of thick, black hair around her finger.

Years of feeding Chandra's love for divination had left these directions redundant as Rose knew the process too well for her own liking. She watched as Chandra fixed the cards into her favourite spread, before flipping the first one over.

'The Tower,' said Chandra in the chilling whisper she adopted for her tarot readings. 'You've recently suffered a loss – like a big loss. Oh, Rosie, it's probably talking about Andrew. Are you okay?'

'Who's Andrew?' asked Albus.

'Her Muggle boy in London.'

'Oh, no, Rosie,' cooed Albus, wearing the precocious smile only produced by one of Chandra's incessant predictions for Rose's love-life. 'Are you alright?'

Rose ignored him and said to Chandra, 'Last week you said the Tower meant I had made a positive change in my life.'

'The cards are up for interpretation,' Chandra reminded her matter-of-factly, moving to the second card. 'Oh, look – the Moon.'

'Fear?' asked Rose lazily.

'No, I don't think so,' said Chandra slowly, twisting a long tendril of hair through her fingers thoughtfully. 'I think it's about illusion. There's a secret you don't know about and you need to find out what it is.'

'That's very specific for a tarot card,' said Rose.

'Oh, yes, I practiced a lot over the summer. Mum says I'm getting very good at it. She told me to always go with my first impression. I'm getting very accurate.'

'I can tell,' said Rose, avoiding Albus's eye for fear of cracking a smile.

Chandra beamed at the pair of them and flipped the third and final card. She blinked her long lashes at the faded image before her as if struggling to divine it through a heavy fog. 'Oh, dear…'

Albus sat up in his chair to peer down at the card. 'The Wheel of Fortune? Isn't that good luck?'

Chandra gave a feeble shake of her head, her bright, brown eyes still fixed on the card before her. 'It's reversed,' she said in a whisper. 'That's bad luck. Oh, no… that's really bad. I can feel it.'

Albus peered down at Chandra, who looked on the verge of tears, and then turned to Rose, who looked as unfazed as a person could manage. 'So what's going to happen to her?'

'I… I don't know. But…' Chandra drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her thin frame. 'I just don't know.'

'I wouldn't worry, Chandra,' Rose told her calmly. 'Let's wait and see if I uncover any secrets first.'

'Malfoy,' hissed Albus suddenly, and Chandra and Rose both glanced across at him. 'And Gamp. What if it's all connected?'

'Oh, for god's sake, Al. I am so sick of talking about this.'

'But what if they're planning something big? Have you looked at the _Evening Prophet_ today? There was another attempted break-in at the Gamp house and he was missing from Charms today!'

'Yes, of course,' said Rose. 'That's their grand plan. Malfoy is going to take over the Wizarding World and I'm the only thing standing in his way. First he murdered Gamp and now he's going to murder me.'

'Don't,' murmured Chandra. 'It's not funny.'

'Think about it,' insisted Albus, snapping shut his journal and dropping off the couch to join them on the floor. 'That card might not mean just you. It could mean something bad for _everyone._ He's definitely up to something. He missed class today-'

'Oh my god, arrest him!' cried Rose. 'You realise his father's just been arrested for murder. I don't know if I'd take the news too well either.'

Albus gazed at her disapprovingly. 'You'll have to start taking this seriously if more people start turning up dead.'

Chandra gave a squeak of panic and pressed her face against her knees. Rose shot Albus a deploring look and, under her piercing gaze, he mumbled rather guiltily, 'But I'm sure that won't happen.'

'Yes, so am I,' said Rose resolutely and she got her feet, gathering up her book and satchel. 'I better go. Chandra, you haven't done Albus's reading yet.'

'Oh…' murmured Chandra, raising her head to stare down at her scattered tarot cards, the ill-fated Wheel of Fortune glinting up at her. 'Yes, of course… Let me shuffle them.'

Rose gave Albus another look warning him against discussing her demise any further with Chandra before she bid them goodbye and crossed the common to the portrait hole.

The castle in late afternoon looked like a painter's impression of some an Arthurian legend, drenched in honey-gold light and inhabited by students who seemed to float up and down the corridors revelling in the joys of the end of the day. In a few brief weeks, she knew, the sun would not be out at this hour, and they would be plunged into darkness earlier and earlier in the evening, and she thought wearily of the patrols she would be assigned to that would force her out of her fire-lit common room and shivering into the dark corridors in the winter evenings.

She had never been to the prefects' office before and walked rather leisurely around the fifth floor until she located it. It was guarded by a wide, oak door, at which she saw the tall, thin figure of Scorpius Malfoy, leaning heavily against the wall of the corridor.

'I didn't get given a password,' she heard him snap as she drew nearer, catching sight of the brass doorknob set into the door that was welded into the shape of a dragon head and was currently gazing placidly up at Malfoy.

'Password?' the doorknob asked.

'I told you, I don't have the damn…' He fell silent as he caught sight of her, straightening up as she drew nearer, and growling at her, 'What's the password?'

'I didn't know we needed a password,' she replied coolly. She realised now there had never been words exchanged between the two of them, and for the first time she appreciated Albus's distaste for the boy.

She extended a hand to try to turn the doorknob and in an instant the dragon head gave a low hiss, opened its mouth and sank its metal fangs deeply into her fist.

' _Damn it_ ,' she hissed, balling her bloodied fist into her robes.

'I already tried that,' he told her impatiently, raising his own fang-marked hand as evidence.

'Thank you for the warning. I don't suppose you tried knocking too?'

The glare he gave her told her he hadn't, and she raised a hand to rap smartly on the door as Malfoy slumped back against the wall. A moment later she was met by the sound of muffled footsteps from within the room, and the door was wrenched open to reveal Xan, who gave her a bright grin.

'You're in trouble,' Xan whispered to her teasingly, before stepping aside to allow them entry and calling over her shoulder, 'They're here.'

Malfoy moved forward and she followed him into a wide room, gleaming with evening sunlight that streamed in through two tall, arched windows that stretched ten feet above her head to meet the high ceiling. Four polished pine wood tables were spread about the room, each one inlaid with a jewelled house emblem and large enough to comfortably seat each of the house's prefects. The far corner of the room held a desk and two high-backed armchairs, in which the Head Boy and Girl were sitting.

'What took you so long?' Lucy demanded.

'Sorry,' Malfoy muttered at her. 'I didn't have the password.'

'Well, that's why you should have been here on time so Broderick and I could let you in,' Lucy snarled at him before turning blazing blue eyes on Rose. 'And you?'

She did not answer immediately. She noticed now, as he hobbled forward towards the Ravenclaw table, that Malfoy had abandoned his usual straight-backed march that she had heard Albus and James ridicule on more than one occasion, and was hurrying forward doggedly with a faltering limp.

' _Rose?'_ asked Lucy more pressingly, the colour rising in her freckled cheeks.

'I- I couldn't find the room,' she murmured hurriedly, before crossing the room to take a seat beside Xan at the Gryffindor table with their fellow prefects.

'We better get started if we don't want to run in to dinner time,' began Broderick Cattermole bracingly, hoping to redirect his counterpart's focus from the latecomers. 'We just need to work out a schedule for the patrols. You've all got your timetables, don't you?'

There was a murmur of affirmation and shuffling from around the room as the prefects withdrew their timetables from their bags.

'You'll be patrolling in pairs,' Lucy informed them in a prickly voice. 'One patrol each a week. Ten in the evening until one and then one until four.'

There was a collective murmur of discontent from around the room from the older students.

'Last year the patrols only went from ten until two,' grumbled a Slytherin boy.

'Well, this year it will be ten until four,' said Lucy acidly.

'Four in the morning?' scoffed Mei Zhao from the Ravenclaw table. 'That's ridiculous.'

'Well, um…' mumbled Broderick, looking uncertainly at Lucy for direction, 'we're going to have a look at your timetables and make sure the one to four shifts get covered by people with free periods in the mornings.'

'So we'll have to sleep through breakfast?' asked Hamish Coote glumly.

'And we'll have less time to study,' added a Hufflepuff girl. 'Some of us have NEWTs to think about.'

'And OWLs,' added Zaina Faheem fumingly.

'It's one hour extra each,' Lucy reminded them in a prudish voice. 'One hour more. Is that so terrible?'

'This wasn't your idea, was it, Luce?' asked Xan, who was looking rather amused. 'Come on, be honest.'

'No, it wasn't,' snapped back Lucy. 'For your information, this new arrangement was Professor Sinistra's idea, so you all should be showing a little more respect.'

There was a chorus of groans and protests from around the room, filled with unintelligible mumbles of complaints, until the drawl of Scorpius Malfoy came from the Ravenclaw table over the indistinct mutterings of their peers.

'Why's she changed the rules?'

Lucy's eyes darted towards the blonde. 'Why she did isn't important,' she retorted. 'She told us this is the way she wants it, so this is how it's going to be.'

'Is it because of the Ministry murder?'

Silence swamped over the room at Scorpius's question as all eyes turned towards the Ravenclaw and then shot back to Lucy to gauge her reaction. She was glaring at Scorpius in a way that reminded Rose distinctly of their grandmother, before she told him sharply, 'That's not an appropriate question.'

'But is it though?' asked Cassie Kettleburn from the Hufflepuff table. 'I mean, if the professors think whoever did it might try to get in the school, shouldn't we know about it?' So we know what to look for?'

'The patrols have nothing to do with that terrible murder,' Lucy told him, her voice growing shrill.

'Then why have they done it?' demanded an older Ravenclaw boy.

'I've told you, _Professor Sinistra wants us to-_ '

'You don't know, do you?' said Xan. 'You can just say you don't know.'

'That is not what I'm saying!' shot back Lucy with enough force in her voice to make the Head Boy jump in his seat. 'I'm saying you and I and _everybody else_ have no business knowing why Professor Sinistra wants it this way, but it's our job to do it for her. Now will you _please_ let Broderick and I have a look at your timetables? Otherwise we'll put you on whenever we like and you can all just deal with it.'

A murmur of hostile consent rose from around the room and the next half hour was dominated by discussion regarding when each prefect was available, punctuated by frequent protests from around the room. Rose, who found the prospect of patrols off-putting regardless of which night or hour she was assigned to, instead busied herself with casting sideways glances at Scorpius Malfoy when she was sure he would not meet his eyes. He was sitting as far as he could from Zaina Faheem, his hand disappearing beneath the table to clutch at his damaged leg, and Rose could hear Albus's fretful voice ringing in her ears.

 _There was another break-in attempt at the Gamp house and he was missing from Charms today!_

 _It's ridiculous_ , she told herself. _Totally ridiculous._

But what if it was true?

When the meeting concluded Scorpius Malfoy was the first to rise, limping back across the room and wrenching open the door before many of the other prefects were even out of their seats. Rose gathered up her satchel, unsure whether the mutterings in the room were dominated by complaint regarding the extended patrol hours or speculation as to whether or not Draco Malfoy was responsible for the murder of Gustav Gamp.

She left the room at Xan's side with a patrol scheduled with Mei Zhao and a promise to herself that she was never, under any circumstance, to voice her suspicions of Scorpius Malfoy to Albus, no matter what fate Chandra's tarot cards had planned for them.

* * *

 **Song Credit:** ** _Dance Little Liar_ by Arctic Monkeys.**

 **A/N: I'm sorry about the long wait between chapters, but here's a long, long, _long_ chapter to make up for it. That being said, it is currently 5am and I'm sure I've missed a million typos so I'll probably have to re-edit this the morning.**

 **Thank you so much to the people who have been reviewing! It's you people who make me want to update and keep me determined to tell this story.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! If you loved it, hated it or just want to tell me about you day, please review! xxx**


	5. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

_19/02/2017_

* * *

 ** _Don't Think Twice, It's Alright  
_** _It aint no use in calling out my name, girl  
_ _Like you've never done before  
_ _And it aint no use in calling out my name, girl  
_ _I can't hear you anymore  
_ _I'm thinking and wondering walking down the road  
_ _I once loved a woman, a child I am told  
_ _I gave her my heart but she wanted my soul  
_ _But don't think twice, it's alright_

* * *

Her head on his shoulder was familiar, as was her anger, and yet she had permitted him to loop his fingers through hers. He rolled his thumb over the dark flesh of her hand, silky beneath his touch, one of the first things he had taken note of on their first night together.

'What were you doing hiding up here?' she asked him.

'I wasn't hiding.'

'It certainly seemed like you didn't want to be seen when you disappeared after dinner.'

She was not good at forgiving, but she was good at facades. Her anger would subside, he knew, but this and each of his other misdemeanours committed in their four months of courtship were not to be removed from the table for her nimble fingers to latch at whenever she clawed for something to throw in his face during quarrels. He had made peace with this, had even come to admire it; he himself did not have the patience to commit to memory all the things he had to accuse her of.

'I had to send a letter,' was the only reply he could give her.

'You're still worried about your dad.'

It was a stupid thing to say, really, because had she been speaking to any other soul on earth that would have been a given; it was only an oddity when it came to his family. He decided against telling her this, however, and focused instead on resisting the urge to disentangle his fingers from hers.

'You don't even like him,' she informed him matter-of-factly, turning gleaming brown eyes at him, glowing silver in the moonlight. 'Why are you so upset?'

'I'm not upset. I just want to know what's going on.'

'Scorpius, it's been a week since they dropped the charges-'

He cut across her with a harsh utterance of, 'Zaina.'

She fell silent and let go of his hand, but he did not allow his fingers to slip away, and he caught them in his grip, tugging her back towards him and he dipped to kiss her. It was not enough to shift the glare from her face, but he had not expected it to; he knew that look, searching and testing, asking him for more and warning him not to fall short.

'Isn't there anything else you'd rather be doing than talking about this?' He glanced back over his shoulder at the empty astronomy tower before turning back to face her. 'There's no-one else around.'

And that, in the voice he had coined for her, was enough to bring a twitching smile to her lips and she eased into him.

* * *

He was bleeding badly by the time he got back to the common room, and was pleased to find its occupants dwindling at the late hour. He moved towards the boy's dormitories with his fist balled into his pocket, wincing through the pain, before a familiar growling voice reached him from across the common room.

'Don't put it there – too many people are going to see it!'

'It's a notice board, you prat, of course people are going to see it.'

'Yeah, but we don't want the whole house turning up. Here, stick it under the one about Hogsmeade visits…'

Albus found himself taking a step closer to the two seventh years, trying to peer around them to catch sight of what it was they were attaching to the noticeboard, before James threw a scouring look over his shoulder and caught sight of the younger brother.

'Oh, hello, Ducky. Isn't it past your bedtime?'

Finlay too rounded on him, and Albus now saw what it was they had been bickering over; clutched in the beater's hand was a scarlet slip of parchment, emblazoned in gold letters proclaiming _Quidditch try-outs this Saturday._

'Evening Al,' greeted Finlay. 'Would you tell your brother he's being a total tosser, please?'

His fist aching stubbornly, he very much wanted to simply turn back towards the dormitories and hurry up to bed, but in spite of himself he asked shrewdly, 'What's he done?'

'Nothing except spare Finlay and all our sorry souls from enduring hours of Quidditch try-outs,' grumbled James, 'and now he goes sticking up a bloody great flier on the notice board.'

'But I thought you had to hold try-outs?' asked Albus. 'It's school rules, isn't it?'

'Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to go screaming it from the rooftops,' James informed him. 'Which reminds me, have you ever seen Vane play?'

Albus frowned at him. 'Emory Vane?'

'Yeah. Kim Nguyen says he's decent.'

'She's only saying that because they used to go together,' Albus told him glumly.

'Well, whatever, if you're going up to the dorm tell we need a new seeker, would you?'

'You tell him,' retorted Albus. 'I'm not your slave. And you shouldn't be recruiting players without holding try-outs first.'

'Well said, Al,' sighed Finlay.

'You two are no fun,' James drawled. 'No wonder you've got nothing better to do with your evenings than sip tea with Hagrid.'

'I like sipping tea with Hagrid!' countered Albus.

'Course you do.' James gave a nod his brother's robes in which his hand was still tightly bound. 'What's he had you doing this time? Neutering unicorns?'

Albus glared at him before conceding to withdrew his blood-stained fist from his robes. 'Binding bowtruckle legs. I squeezed one too hard and it swiped me.'

Finlay gave a low hiss of distaste before crossing to Albus side and holding up his hand for inspection.

James ran a weary hand through his unruly hair. 'Jesus Christ, Al, go to the hospital wing, would you?'

'I don't want Hagrid to get in trouble,' admitted Albus as Finlay peered down at the slit running across his fist from his knuckle to his wrist bone.

'I'll patch it up,' Finlay told him gently. 'Come on, get over here.'

Albus looked rather helplessly towards James as Finlay led him towards the couch by the fireplace, James lumbering behind them looking bored.

'You – er – you've done this before, right?' squeaked Albus as Finlay sat him down on the couch and withdrew his wand.

'Course he has,' James dismissed, throwing himself down into an armchair. 'You think we can afford to go to he hospital wing after every near death experience? Hannah would go spare.'

Finlay gave the younger boy's hand a sharp rap with his wand before Albus gave a sharp cry of pain at the burning sensation that rippled out across his arm. Finlay seemed to give his discomfort no heed as he tended to the wound, while James offered nothing other than a smirk and withdrew his tin of tobacco and asked lazily, 'Where's Rose gotten to?'

'Prefect patrols,' Albus told him through gritted teeth as James began rolling a cigarette. 'You're not still smoking those things, are you?'

'No, I just roll them for fun,' James said, tucking the fresh cigarette behind his ear. 'Who's she with?'

'Mei Zhao.'

'Who?'

'The sixth year from Ravenclaw.'

James gave a shrug. 'Never heard of her.'

'You must have,' Albus insisted. It was these proclamations of casual disinterest, among other things, that so irked him about his brother. 'She's got long black hair.'

'Long legs,' Finlay offered. 'Nearly done, Al.'

'Oh, her,' said James in revelation. 'I don't like her.'

'Only because she doesn't laugh at your jokes,' Finlay reminded him, giving Albus's fist another sharp tap with his wand. 'There you go. Finished.'

Albus took chanced a glance at his hand; the gash had been transformed into a long, crusted scar like a healing burn, and he turned to Finlay. 'Wow, it's… wow. How'd you learn how to do that?'

Finlay gave him a wry smile and got to his feet. 'Practice. I think I'm done for the day, though.' He stifled a yawn before shooting James a sideways glance and hissing at him, 'Don't be an idiot tonight, will you?'

Albus glanced at James, who appeared not to have heard Finlay's warning, but was instead busying himself twirling his cigarette between his fingers.

Finlay rolled his eyes, bid Albus goodnight and crossed the near-deserted common room to the boys' dormitories, leaving the younger Potter to round on his brother and ask shrewdly, 'What are you going to do tonight?'

James' dark eyes passed over him, the maddening grin twitching at his lips. 'Wouldn't you like to know, Ducky.'

Albus gave him a scowl. 'I don't know why you think acting like an idiot is something to be smug about. I mean, you know how mad it makes Mum when she gets letters from the school about you, and then Dad always sticks up for you, and then they end up rowing-'

'Oh, god, Ducky, spare me,' groaned James. 'If you must know Lydia Thomas wants a word down by the lake, so it's nothing to pull your hair out over.'

Albus blinked at him. 'A word? A word about what?'

James did not answer immediately, but rather got to his feet and gave an spread-eagled stretch and in immense yawn that Albus knew for certain was largely for effect, before drawling, 'Use your imagination, Al. Tell Vane about Saturday, won't you?'

Albus fixed his brother with a venomous glare as the Quidditch captain loped across the common room and climbed out of the portrait hole. Stifling a sigh, he started towards the dormitories and made his slow ascent of the stairs, rehearsing both how he would tell James to sod off and do his own recruiting and how he would ask Vane if he had any interest in joining the team.

Stepping into his dormitory, he was delighted to find it silent. Each bed was occupied, the curtains pulled shut, heavy breathing of sleep rising from his four dorm-mates. He changed into his pyjamas and removed his journal from his trunk's secret compartment before climbing into bed. He tore open the journal and began to scribble.

 _9_ _th_ _September 2021_

 _Quidditch try-outs on the weekend. I'll have to borrow a broom._

* * *

It was routine these days.

He was in fourth year when he first managed to wrangle the browning map out of Hecate Hall and into his school trunk and from his frequent perusing of the torn pages he had managed to memorise the prefect patrols in only a few short weeks. It was due to this that he had fallen into the habit of venturing out of Gryffindor tower with no aid from either the approaching dots on the map of the invisibility cloak stuffed into his jacket pocket, and it was due to this hubris, as were many others of his misadventures, that he found himself in the predicament he did, rounding the corner to find himself before his younger cousin.

'Rosie,' he said to her, stumbling to a halt.

'James,' she replied, blinking up at him, the familiar knot of scrutiny appearing between her eyebrows.

'Look at you,' he told her bracingly, flashing her a smile that he then gave to Mei Zheo. 'Good little prefects, aren't you? Sacrificing your Sunday evenings to keep the student body safe and secure. I salute you both.'

'Thank you,' replied Rose in her drawl and, his heart leaping, she shifted in her stance to move on from him, and with a jolt of relief within him he took a step forward to follow suit, until the low, cool voice of Mei Zhao called him back.

'Wait,' said the Ravenclaw, and both he and Rose rounded on her, 'where are you going?'

He scoured the girl before him, thinking of a retort. He could place her now, tall and stern looking with her thin face and pursed lips, and he found his distaste for her growing. 'That's for me to know and you to find out,' he replied, and once more he made to turn away from the two girls.

'Well, no it isn't, actually, because it's past curfew,' growled Mei. 'So unless turn around and head straight back to Gryffindor tower we can take you to down to your Head of House and you can explain to him why it's so important for you to be out of bed.'

James, had he been wiser than his seventeen years, or perhaps had he been wiser at all, his temper would not have flared, but of all the things James Potter was, wise was not one of them. 'Alright,' he began fumingly, 'look, sweetheart-'

' _James,_ ' hissed Rose, sharp enough to call him into quiet, 'library, wasn't it?'

James' eyes darted to his cousin, finding her wide brown eyes watching him warningly, before he gave a quick nod. 'Yeah, that's it.'

'It's past curfew,' said Mei reproachfully. 'Can't the library wait until tomorrow?'

'James is doing his NEWTs this year,' interjected Rose before James could retort. 'He's trying to get into the Auror program.'

This news apparently was both well received and surprising to the Ravenclaw, who turned to James with her eyebrows raised. 'The Auror program? Really?'

'It runs in the family,' he replied, throwing her one of his crooked grins, which was enough to rile Mei from her awe, and her pale face immediately returned to a scowl.

'You really should have a note Head of House if you're using the library past curfew,' she scolded.

'But you told Professor Longbottom, didn't you, James?' said Rose, swooping in once more. 'We better get going, Mei. Aren't we supposed to check no-one's dawdling in the great hall?'

Mei shot Rose a look that betrayed her contemplation: linger there to interrogate James or adhere to the prefects' patrol route? Seemingly deciding on the latter, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and turned sharply away from James to start down the passageway. Rose followed suit, catching her cousin's eye for a brief second long enough for him to wink at her in thanks.

He continued down the passageway at a leisurely stride, now weary of attracting any further prying from schoolmates and teachers. When he had first gotten his hands on his grandfather's map he was dejected to find that each of the hidden passages out of the school detailed upon it had been filled in, a product of his father's post-war meddling during the castle's reconstruction he was sure. It was this one that he and Finlay had found the most success unblocking and it had taken them several year's persistence to make any headway with it.

He came to the to the statue of the one-eyed witch and slowed his pace, ran a hand through his hair and threw a glance up and down the passageway before slipping into the concealed passageway to begin the familiar trek out of the castle.

* * *

When peace had broken out across Wizarding Britain, Ron Weasley, still bloody from battle and freshly recruited by the Auror program, had proclaimed that he could no longer face the prospect of apparating to and from work every waking day, and so the young couple, as soon as they had managed to scrounge enough money together, had settled in London. It had at first been a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and then onto a modest flat in Bethnall Green, before settling in Westminster in the months preceding their daughter's birth.

Unlike his own home that he had acquired courtesy of the Ministry before his eighteenth birthday, Ron and Hermione did not enjoy the liberty of living in an area mostly dominated by magical kind, and so arriving by apparition posed something of a difficulty. There was no hope of apparating directly onto the property, the protective charms that barred intruders and magazine columnists being far too thorough, and so they were in the habit of materialising into a dark, narrow alleyway at the end of the street.

His wife arrived seconds after him, her perfume thick in the air, and she started towards the mouth of the alleyway without a glance towards him; he watched her go. Stepping out of the lane into the light of the street-lamps her hair was cast a glowing bronze and he begun to follow, thinking of how she had looked when they had wondered London's streets together by moonlight two decades ago and how, with her back to him, it could have been one of those nights, her body as slim and lean as it had been at eighteen.

'Don't say anything to them,' she instructed of him without looking around.

'I won't.'

'I don't want to stay long,' she informed her in a manner that told him there would be no discussion of the matter.

'That's okay. Neither do I.'

'I don't know why you bother lying.'

The Victorian terrace that sat at number ten, Pembroke Road, was the widest and grandest in its row, its cream façade obscured by thick tangles of white climbing roses that reached all the way to the third storey, egged on by the residents' charms. A wrought iron gate guarded the stretch of garden between the street and the house and Ginny pushed it open, the heels of her boots beating out a rhythm against the pavement. She marched up the front steps to the black-painted door, Harry following closely in her wake, and raised a pale, freckled hand, luminous in the darkness, to give the lion-head door-knocker a few sharp raps, before stepping back to fall in line with him on the doorstep.

They stood in silence. They had argued before leaving Godric's Hollow that evening. It was not in regards to anything particularly compelling, but was instead centred around the age-old offence he caused by his tardy return home, often times covered in far too much blood than a wife would want on her husband.

He wondered why they bothered anymore, but even as he did so he had the answer; they were both far too stubborn and far too determined to have either of their grievances forgotten or their guilt proven, and so on and on it went. What accusations could she scrounge for these days that she hadn't already hurled at him over the years? What measly excuses could he dredge up that he hadn't already offered her? What reward did she hope to receive for her enduring affront, and what solution did he expect from his tireless defence And as he stood on the doorstep he reached the same conclusion that he had been coming to for decades: it was easier to allow oneself to be filled with rage that filled with grief.

With a click of a lock the door was pulled open, and in the presence of company he welcomed the chance not to think on it any longer.

A frazzled-looking Hermione stood before them donned in the dress robes she had worn to work, her dark, bushy hair spilling into her eyes, stooping down as she wrestled with a pair of strappy heeled boots.

'Hello!' she trilled at them breathlessly. 'I'm sorry, I'm not ready, I'm just got home – everybody's down in the kitchen, you two go through. I've just _got_ to get out of these shoes.'

She hobbled out of the doorway and down the passageway and Harry and Ginny followed, continuing past the master bedroom that Hermione disappeared into to emerge into the bright kitchen and were met with a chorus of greetings from the room's inhabitants. It was a familiar scene: Ron at the stove top calling to them in welcome, the husbands on one-side of the dining table talking amongst themselves, the wives on the other doing just the same, entrées spread out before them and overfilled goblets of mead in each hand.

Ginny called out a greeting to the room and all at once her iciness had melted as she moved forward to offer kisses and greetings around the table. He did the same, starting with the women as she started with the men so their paths would not intersect, before he found himself gratefully beside Ron at the oven.

'Sorry we're late,' he told him. 'Only just managed to get away from work.'

Ron waved away the apology and raised a wand to flick it at the oven, opening the door to levitate out a tray of roast potatoes. 'Forget it, you didn't miss anything.'

'Neville and Hannah couldn't make it?'

'Afraid not – although that is two less to try and get rid of at the end of the night. Grab yourself a drink.' He gestured to the liquor cabinet across the kitchen and Harry followed instruction, pouring himself a glass of mead.

Sipping gratefully on his drink and listening to Ron swearing over the burning roast, Harry glanced back to the kitchen table. Ginny had immersed herself in a conversation with Dean, Seamus, Lee, George Angelina and Alicia regarding the Harpies match that weekend, while across the table Parvati and a strained-looking Lavender were in the midst of a whispered conversation regarding the misdemeanours of the latter's son. The prospect of offering Lavender any further affirmation that all boys misbehaved was anything but appealing, but the presence of his wife in the larger group seemed to eliminate his ability to join the Quidditch debate.

'Want to have a go at getting Luna and Rolf in for dinner?' asked Ron in an undertone. 'They're out in the garden with the boys.'

Harry replied with a nod and downed his glass of mead, before he moved swiftly across the kitchen to the backdoor that led out into the house's large, overgrown garden. Was the tension between him and his wife so dense that Ron had noticed it so quickly and had offered a brief excuse to escape, or was he merely paranoid?

He could hear the squeals of the twins through the matted rosebushes and followed the sound down the cobbled footpath. Hermione had expanded their backyard upon moving in, affording them nearly an acre of land in what had initially been a tiny courtyard, and he found the Scamanders at the centre of the garden beside the mossy pond. The eight-year-olds had waded into the murky water up to their knees, staring into the inky depths in search of tadpoles as his own children had so delighted in at their age, their parents standing watch at the pond's edges with their wands illumining the depths.

'Check under the pebbles, boys,' Luna was telling them. 'You might find some plimpy eggs!'

One of the twins straightened up at the sound of Harry's approaching footsteps and gave a gleeful call of, 'Harry's here!'

Luna and Rolf rounded on him and called out greetings, trudging through the leaf-strewn lawn to meet him.

'Harry, you look exhausted,' said Luna when she reached him. 'You're all peaky. You've been all cooped up in your office, haven't you? Have you been taking the grindylow oil we got you?'

'Harry,' sang Rolf in his slow, lyrical voice Harry had become so accustomed to, offering Harry a handshake. Rolf had a habit of clutching hands far too long when he was to hold them, as he did at that moment, closing both hands over Harry's and fixing him with one his wide-eyed, scouring stares. 'I'm so sorry for your loss. Terrible news. Terrible, terrible. You poor man. You look awful.'

'Thank you, Rolf,' Harry replied, clapping Rolf's shoulder as he extricated his other hand from the man's grip.

'And for you to bear the brunt of it,' continued Rolf in a whisper, 'heading the investigation while you yourself have lost a colleague-'

'Well, I didn't know him too well,' said Harry quickly. 'I think Ron wants us all inside for dinner.'

He was spared from listening to any further consolation from Rolf as they strode back to the house, for he was preoccupied trying to coax his sons out of the pond, and instead was given a moment of relative peace as he walked back along the pathway with Luna.

'How are the kids going back at school?' she asked him.

'Oh, good, good,' he replied. 'Well, to be honest with you I haven't heard much from them… Al's written a few times but I suppose Lily and James are distracted.'

'Must be odd having the house empty,' said Luna dreamily. 'I can't remember what that's like.'

'You adjust to it, I suppose.'

He strode back into the kitchen, leaving Luna and Rolf at the back door hastily cleaning the muck from the pond off of their sons' trousers. Hermione had emerged from the bedroom, barefoot and wearing a set of far more comfortable looking amber robes, and was now levitating cutlery out of the kitchen cabinet across to the dining table while Ron unloaded the oven.

'Need a hand?' he asked of them.

'No, no, no,' said Hermione rather breathlessly. 'Just sit down – we need room in the kitchen. Darling, could you run and get the mead from the cellar?'

'Already done, dear, it's on the table,' Ron chortled, loading his arms with a huge bowl of sprouts. 'Go sit down and get a drink, would you? You're making me stressed.'

Hermione gave a sigh of defeat and followed Harry to the dining room table, taking a seat beside him as far from the centre of conversation as could be managed.

'What time did you get off today?' Hermione asked him breathlessly, pouring them both goblets of mead.

'About forty-fives minutes ago,' he informed her, taking a gulping sip of mead. 'We're still going through Gamp's friends and family trying to find out if he had any enemies.'

'And?'

'And if we don't find something soon we're going to have to look at it from a different angle.'

'Meaning what, exactly?'

'Meaning Rowle is going to get his way,' said Harry bitterly. He sipped greedily at his mead, feeling Hermione's anxious eyes watching him, before reaching to refill his goblet. He hadn't had a moment spare for lunch today and with an empty stomach the mead was rushing blissfully to his head.

'Do you think that's going to lead you anywhere?' she asked.

'I don't know. I haven't gotten anywhere so far. I've got all the other department heads breathing down my neck and-'

'Oi, cut it out,' snapped Ron, appearing beside them to lower the roast onto the table. 'No Ministry talk. I haven't started drinking yet.'

'Alright, alright,' Hermione assured him as he took a seat on her other side. 'This all looks amazing, darling.'

'It's just a roast, dear. Alright, everyone stop talking and dig in.'

There were calls of praise and thank you from around the table as the guests began to fill their plates and top-up their drinks.

'So, you two,' began Seamus eagerly, gesturing across the table at Ron and Hermione, 'what's all this business with Gamp?'

'Seamus, what did I just say?' sighed Ron. 'Food first, work talk later.'

'But he wasn't really killed, was he?' asked Lavender shrewdly. 'And by Malfoy of all people? I can't believe it.'

'If they knew I'm sure they couldn't tell us, Lavender,' said Angelina evenly. 'How's Aiden going? He's in his second year now, isn't he?'

'Oh, you know, boys will be boys,' said Seamus jovially.

Lavender cast her husband a prudish look before turning back to Angelina to tell her, 'We've already had two letters home about him from his Head of House.'

'Yeah, but that's Smith for you, isn't it?' Dean told her soothingly. 'We get letters about the girls every other week and it's always the most trivial things.'

'Not to mention Smith's a right git,' said George. 'Seemed to be his goal in life to have Fred expelled.'

'Well, George, he did set the Charms room on fire,' growled Angelina.

'Yeah, well, can you blame him? Imagine being stuck in a room with Smith all afternoon.'

'He does seem very strict,' said Parvati thoughtfully. 'Chandra and Rose are banned from sitting together in his class now because they talk too much supposedly but that's just what girls do at that age, isn't it? We were just like that when we were at school.'

From the corner of his eye he saw Hermione's lips purse ever so slightly. He raised his goblet to take a deep drink and began to think. Hermione and Rose, he knew, were as far from Parvati and her own daughter could be, and yet here they were beneath her roof. His generation had been united by war in a manner his own children would never be.

He drained the dregs of his goblet and reached for the bottle to refill it before glancing around the table. Conversation had been redirected to Fred and Juniper Jordan, who had apparently last been heard from in Croatia.

Looking around at the group of schoolmates one could see, if they knew where to look as he did, the marks of war. Mottled skin on hands and faces; scars along Hermione's neck; sleek, regrown flesh across Ron's upper arm; the limp that Lavender tried to conceal. The war was over and yet here they were, bound together by some hidden force of memory and mourning, friendships forged by blood, and even now it was not over.

Who had killed Gamp, and for what? Could he dare to believe it was due to blood status?

'How many drinks is that?' Ginny's voice murmured in his ear.

His reverie had prevented him from noticing her rising from her seat and crossing around the table. She was leaning over him under the pretence of scooping some sprouts onto her plate, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

'I don't know. My third, perhaps.'

'Slow down, would you? I don't want to apparate you home.'

'I don't expect you to.'

And with that she straightened up and breezed away back around her table to retake her seat.

* * *

Nocturn Alley was not as it had once been, or so he'd been told. He had peered down the mouth of the lane with a craned neck and eager eyes since he was a child, tugging on his parents hands as they strode through Diagon Alley, making his frequently denied pleas to go explore the infamous street.

The days of Death Eaters skulking around corners and deadly potions sold on the street were gone, part of the crackdowns on dark magic enforced when Kingsley Shacklebolt was first elected. His father, he knew, had had a steady hand in the remoulding of Nocturn Alley. For that reason it was, in James' eyes at least, a microcosm for the Wizarding World. The Ministry restrictions and Auror presence had expanded, and he wished rather ruefully he had lived in his grandfather's time.

'You don't mean that,' his father had told him when he voiced this view. 'You can't imagine how things used to be for Muggle-borns.'

Since then he had abandoned any expression of his romanticism for an era long passed when the Wizarding World was ruled not by the Ministry but by the aristocrats. He had been told that any material or practices, however insidious, could have been found on this street for the highest bidder, but now one had to know where to look.

His cohorts, as Finlay called them, were waiting in the usual place; the mouth of a staircase that led down into the cellar of a shop that had once sold cursed jewellery but now sat empty. The smell of tobacco smoke and rum was thick in the air as it always was on these evenings and he lit up a cigarette as he reached the group.

'Evening, Dung.'

'Evenin', Jim,' replied Mundungus Fletcher through a mouth full of pipe smoke. 'No one seen you come down here, did they?'

'How thick do you think I am, Dung?'

Mundungus gave a shrug and offered James his hip flask in apology. 'Just bein' careful. Bloody Aurors all about the last few nights. Don't think you could have a word to your dad, do you? Try to find out if there are any undercovers-'

'Have you met my dad, Dung? You think he'd tell me anything about Ministry shit?' James took a sharp swig of the flask and passed it back to Mundungus. 'What are we waiting for anyway? Can't we get started?'

'Eager, are you?' asked Mundungus, giving James a broad, gold-toothed smile. 'Alright, alright. Come on, you lot.'

* * *

It was usual on these occasions for the guests at number ten Pembroke Road to drink into the night, relishing the evenings when they all found themselves available, but by quarter past eleven their party had divided and Harry found himself slumped in a chair at the dining table with only Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George and Angelina straggling along.

'Whose opening tomorrow?' Ron asked his brother as he made a round of the room refilling drinks.

'I'm guessing with that question you're implying that I am,' said George.

'Well, I did cook you dinner and provide about ten gallons of mead.'

'Don't offer if you don't want to deliver, Ronniekins,' yawned George. 'James held try-outs yet?'

Harry could only manage a shrug in response and Ginny replied with, 'He hasn't said anything to us about it is he has. Quidditch was the only thing he'd talk to us about until he got made captain. Now that he's actually obligated to do something about it he seems bored by the whole thing.'

'Never say that in front of Roxanne,' Angelina advised. 'You should have seen her face when she got her prefect's badge. She felt it in the envelope and was absolutely convinced she had gotten captain. She'll never forgive Lucy for becoming head girl.'

'Well, we all knew that was coming,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, but Xan says that if they hadn't been replacing the Gryffindor prefect she would have gotten it instead of James,' explained George.

'Not that she thinks she's a better flyer or anything like that,' said Angelina quickly. 'But she's so sure of herself - she had a training schedule already planned out.'

Harry gave a pensive nod. 'Maybe Finlay should have gotten it.'

Ginny spun in her seat to face her husband. 'What does that mean?'

'James in a position of power doesn't bode well for anyone,' he said tiredly. 'And Neville making him captain'll just make him think he can get away with it.'

'Oh, yes, it's Neville's fault James doesn't listen to a word anyone says to him.'

Harry, his head as heavy with mead as it was, did not miss the accusation in her voice. 'What does _that_ mean?'

'You're not exactly stern with him.'

'Would you prefer I have screaming matches across the house with him like you do?'

'How about I make a pot of tea?' intervened Hermione, jumping up from her perch beside Ron. 'Angelina, will you have one? Ginny?'

Ginny gave no sign of hearing. Her eyes were fixed across the room on her husband, who replied by finishing the last of the mead in his goblet. He knew as he said it he would regret it, but with blood thick with alcohol he had lavished it; the scowl of affront she took on when he undermined her, the colouring of her cheeks when he invited their friends into the affairs of their household.

'Oh, don't tempt me, Hermione,' replied Angelina loudly in a clear attempt to rouse the Potters from their fuming. 'I've got to be at the hospital early tomorrow and George should sleep if he's opening up the shop.'

'Lord, has that been decided, has it?' groaned George, getting to his feet and giving a great stretch. He gave Ron's shoulder a clap. 'You owe me.'

'We'll see,' replied the younger Weasley, getting to his feet to kiss Angelina's cheek goodbye. 'Bye, Ange. Hope work's alright.'

'I hope so too,' she replied as she made her way around the table to kiss her in-laws goodbye. 'Please don't let me find you in there again anytime soon, Harry. The only time I've seen you lately is in the emergency admissions ward.'

Ron walked the couple to the door as Hermione set about clearing their glasses before asking to the table's last two occupants, 'How about that cup of tea?'

'Don't worry about it,' said Ginny in an icy voice as she got to her feet. 'We should go too.'

'What's that?' said Ron, re-emerging from the passageway. 'Come on, Ginny, it's early. We've only gone through ten bottles.'

'Some of us have work tomorrow, Ron.'

'What, watching a Quidditch match?'

Ginny fixed her brother with a piercing look and Hermione let out a weary utterance of, 'Ron…'

'Oh, she knows I'm kidding.'

'Yes, we can't all give up careers in the Auror program to work in a joke shop,' said Ginny tersely.

For a moment Ron seemed tempted to snap back, but after an instant's glance towards his wife he gave a careless wave towards Harry and said loftily, 'What, and wind up looking like him? No thanks. Just have one more drink.'

Ginny ignored him and pulled on her cloak. 'Thanks for dinner, you two. Come on, Harry.'

'Hmm?'

'We've got to go. Come on.'

He gave a glance towards his watch before turning back to her. 'It's not that late.'

Again he felt the rush of gratification at the look on her face, her lips pinched tightly together, the knot of anger between her brows. He knew, however, that the guilt would soon follow.

'Fine,' she told him evenly. 'You stay here. I'm ready for bed.'

'I'll let you out,' said Hermione quickly when Harry made no attempt to protest. She made to stand but Ginny waved her back into her seat.

'Don't be silly, I know my way out. Dinner was great. I'll see you both soon.'

And without another glance towards her husband she was gone, marching out of the kitchen and down the passageway. The slam of the front door announced her departure as Ron took a seat beside Hermione at the dining table.

'What's her problem?' grumbled Ron, reaching for another glass of mead.

'You were being obnoxious,' Hermione informed him matter-of-factly. 'Couldn't you just let her go without bickering?'

At the reprimand Harry was surprised to see Ron look vaguely guilty. He gave a small shrug before refilling Harry's goblet and saying to him, 'Tell her sorry, would you?'

Harry nodded his consent as Ron proceeded to top up Hermione's glass.

'Thank you, darling,' she told him, and Harry watched as Ron shifted his arm to reach for her hand beneath the table, and he wondered if he was overstaying his welcome.

'I'll go after this,' he told them with a nod towards his drink. 'I'm keeping you up.'

'Oh, Harry, don't be silly,' said Hermione. 'I'm sorry, I've been dreary all evening. You know the reason I had to stay back after work was because Malfoy's launched a misconduct accusation against the Department?'

'You're joking?'

'The Wizengamot dismissed it,' she assured him hurriedly. 'They said we had every right to take him into questioning, but of course Rowle is on his side.'

'Kingsley shouldn't be forcing you two to work with that prick,' said Ron. 'Where would he be without you two? You practically rebuilt the Ministry after the war.'

'But that's the problem,' sighed Hermione. 'The blood supremacists hate that we're still a presence in the Ministry. I mean, think of all the demonstrations after the war. The vast majority of the protestors had had no part to play in the war whatsoever. They weren't Death Eaters. They were just Purebloods worried about what would happen when the world was no longer tipped in their favour.'

'I'm a Pureblood,' said Ron rather defensively. 'Doesn't excuse prejudice. Doesn't excuse people like Rowle and Gamp and Malfoy. The quicker that generation's gone the better.'

'Well, we're two down this week,' said Harry grimly.

Ron gave a huff of laughter though Hermione looked ruffled.

'How's Andromeda taking it?' she asked him. 'I mean, I know she only warmed to Lucius for Narcissa's sake but even so, she had been caring for him for a while.'

'I haven't spoken to her, to be honest with you,' he admitted. 'We don't talk much now that Teddy's moved out with his mates. I feel a bit intrusive swooping in pretending to be her confidante. Not when I have her family under surveillance. It's stirring up memories of their family's reputation I'm sure she doesn't want.'

'Well, we're all in that boat,' said Ron. 'Famous until we die. George and I have thrown about three-dozen journalists out of the shop this week. I don't know how they're still employed – the most unsubtle people I've ever met. _How much is this deck of cards? Oh, you're Ron Weasley, aren't you? So has your wife mentioned anything about the investigation?'_

'I was thinking about the children going to Hogsmeade today,' sighed Hermione. 'I bet you anything there'll be _Prophet_ reporters waiting for them. And for Malfoy's son, for that matter. And I'm sure Hugo has no idea what to expect.'

'They're used to it by now, love,' Ron told her gently.

'Yes, but I forget how young they really are,' murmured Hermione. 'When I think what we were doing at their age… it just makes me ill.'

'Well, it's not like that anymore,' Harry informed her. 'We survived, so I don't think a few bastard journalists is going to get to them.'

'But think of all the things they have to read about us in the paper,' said Hermione woefully. 'Ginny told me Albus panicked when he saw you'd been admitted to St. Mungo's. She was furious that they would publish something like that. Doesn't whoever writes this rubbish realise you have family who are going to read it?'

'Well, Al's Al. He worries. And Ginny, she…' He came to a pause, unsure of what he was to say next, before the mead prompted him to proclaim, 'She's not happy with me. Can't remember the last time she was, to be honest with you.'

A silence ensued with his declaration. Ron and Hermione gazed at him from across the table and he suddenly regretted his candidness. He snatched up his goblet and drank deeply, tearing his eyes from them, his eyes coming to rest on Ron's arm that remained hidden beneath the table, his fingers surely laced securely through Hermione's. How long had it been since he had felt free to touch his own wife so easily?

'She just worries when you come home so late when you've been out on raids,' said Hermione briskly, and from the corner of his eye he saw Ron give a concurring nod.

'Right,' he murmured, sipping at his goblet.

'It's true, Harry-'

'No, I know it's true,' he assured her. 'You're right. Forget it. Course you're right.'

'Speaking as someone in Ginny's position,' began Ron, 'you know, eating dinner alone wondering when you'll be home – _it's not that I mind_ ,' he hurried on, as Hermione opened her mouth to protest, 'only it does get a bit lonely sometimes, especially during the school year. Ginny's the same. It's not that I mind – only sometimes I do wonder if there'll be a time in our lives when I'll know when you'll be home.'

'But it's my job, Ron,' said Hermione rather pleadingly, turning in her seat to face her husband. 'You know I don't like keeping you and the kids waiting, but I don't have a choice, especially when work's been as mad as it had been the last few weeks.'

Ron gave a rather wry smile and Harry saw him shift his arm to grip Hermione's leg beneath the table, before telling her soothingly, 'I know that, love. But that's what I'm saying, isn't it? I know its part of the job. Only sometimes I think I might prefer if it wasn't. And Ginny feels just the same.'

He glanced up at them to find that they were no longer looking at him, but had their eyes on each other, and he watched Hermione move her hand from her glass of mead to graze her husband's shoulder. Ron caught her fingers between his and raised them to his lips.

'I should get going,' he announced, gripping the table to haul himself heavily to his feet.

'You sure?' said Ron, turning to give him a rather sceptical grin as he roughly tugged his cloak on.

'It's quite late,' added Hermione, she too rising to her feet. 'You're welcome to use the spare room.'

He waved away the offer with a clumsy flailing of his hand, starting towards the front door on uneven feet. 'No, no. I should get home. Thanks for this, you two. Dinner and the drinks… mostly the drinks.'

'Don't mention it,' said Ron, clapping him on the back as the three of them traipsed down the passageway to the front door. 'You right to apparate, mate?'

'Maybe you should hail the knight bus,' suggested Hermione.

'I'll be right.'

'Don't you dare splinch yourself,' Ron warned. 'I wouldn't want to have to face Ginny if you end up back in St Mungo's.'

'Oh, Ron, stop it,' scolded Hermione.

'I'm only joking!'

He raised a hand to reign in their concern. 'It's fine. I've gotten good at appareting pissed.'

Ron pulled the front door open and bid him farewell with another heavy clap on the back before Hermione stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

'Are you sure you're alright?' she asked shrewdly as he navigated his way down their front steps, stumbling ever so slightly on the last one.

'Fine, fine,' he mumbled, waving away her concern.

'You'll be alright for work tomorrow, won't you?' she asked him shrewdly, prompting Ron to sling an arm around her and ease her into his chest.

'Stop mothering him, darling,' chortled Ron. 'Give him a moment of peace for once in his life.'

Hermione allowed herself to smile, sliding her arm around Ron's waist as they stood against each other, and Harry gazed up at them, a single, four-limbed silhouette against the light filtering out from their doorway.

He forced a grin before raising his hand in farewell and crossing their front garden to the gate. He started down the street, thrown into darkness as Ron and Hermione shut their front door and retreated inside, and he wondered quite suddenly and rather guiltily if they were going to have sex.

It was a prying curiosity, he knew, one that he ought not to allow himself, and one that he would not have delved into had it not been for the alcohol coursing through his veins and bursting throughs the walls of etiquette built within his brain designed to keep him from these wonderings. He told himself not to think on it, and yet as he trudged back down the street to the concealment of the lane way the image of the pair of them standing as one in the doorway seemed burned into his eyelids, the sight of Hermione's fingers pressed fleetingly against Ron's lips rolling like a film reel before his eyes. Was that usual for them? Was that what a marriage was?

'No marriage is perfect,' he had heard his mother-in-law telling his wife from behind closed doors when they believed he wasn't listening. 'Every marriage has problems. People just keep it to themselves.'

Was that the case for Ron and Hermione? Was that the case for his parents-in-law, or Dean and Parvati, or George and Angelina? Did they hide it in the tender grazing of fingers against shoulders or in the utterances of "love" and "darling" that Ron seemed so comfortable with? And if so, was that what he and Ginny ought to be doing? Feigning contentment for the benefit of their friends and children?

Was that, he wondered as he turned into the blackened laneway, what normal was? Was resentment normal? Was months without sex normal?

He disapparated with his mind struggling to recall the last time they had slept together, and it was that discomfort combined with his intoxication that caused him to splinch off the tip of his little finger. He swore and began to suck of the bloodied nail as he stomped up to the front door of Hecate Hall.

The last time, he thought as he made his silent journey through the house, had to be in early spring; she had returned from covering a week-long match rain soaked and exhausted and had climbed into bed beside him in the early hours of the morning. Spring was okay, he assured himself. Spring was not even six months ago, and that was nothing in regards to their other bouts of abstinence that had begun when she had first gotten pregnant.

He found their bedroom door shut and he eased it open in silence before proceeding to undress. He watched the figure in the bed as he did so, familiarly silent, familiarly angled away from him so as to obscure her face. He climbed into the sheets beside her and a gave a familiar rasp of, 'Are you awake?'

'Yes,' came the familiar murmur.

He did not hesitate in his inebriation as he would on other nights and shifted across the expanse between them to wrap his arm around her body. She gave no protest other than a muttered accusation of, 'You stink of mead.'

'Sorry,' he slurred in her ear.

'Are you going to work tomorrow?'

'Got to.'

'I'll be leaving early. I'll try not to wake you.'

'It's okay if you do.'

'Well, I'll try not to all the same.'

She didn't sound at all tired, and he found this somehow encouraging, though his own exhaustion seemed to be rushing to meet him now that he was stationary, beckoning him into sleep.

'Were you waiting for me?' he asked her.

There was a beat of silence before she replied in a voice that sounded somehow hollow; not angry, but something more insidious and something very close to regret. 'I'm always waiting for you, Harry.'

The film reel behind his eyes sprang into life once more, his mind racing as only it could when a person had consumed as much alcohol as he had: Ron and Hermione in the doorway; lips against fingers; journalists stationed at the fence of Hecate Hall; his children on a train speeding away from him; Ginny in a wedding dress. He withdrew his arm from around her and rolled away to sleep.

* * *

 **Song Credit:** **_Don't Think Twice, It's Alright_ by Bob Dylan.**

 **A/N: Oh my god, how is it possible that I write such ridiculously long chapters when like nothing happens? I intended to include like the next whole week in this chapter and cover a lot of Dominique and Scorpius plot lines but I got to 8000 words and realised I was only at the halfway point, so I decided I'd need to divide the chapter.**

 **I'm sorry about the long wait between chapters but I hope to have the next one up soon! If you're still interested in seeing where this story goes please, please, please review! And to all the people who reviewed last time thank you so, so, so much! It is so encouraging to hear that people are enjoying this story and it really gets me motivated to write!**

 **Once again, thank you for reading and please review! xx**


	6. Trying Your Luck

_25/07/2017_

* * *

 ** _Trying Your Luck  
_** _At least I'm on my own again  
_ _Instead of anywhere with you  
_ _And I lost my page again  
_ _I know this is surreal  
_ _But I'll try my luck with you  
_ _This life is on my side_

* * *

He was late. Merlin, he was late. He was late and feeling as ill as he had felt in a good while. He wasn't twenty year old anymore. What business did he have drinking two bottles of mead when he had work in the morning?

God, he was starving. How long would it take to scoff down some toast? But then he ran the risk of making himself ill and wasting time being sick in the bathroom. No, he would take the risk. He was starving. But more to the point he was thirsty – painfully thirsty.

He stumbled into the kitchen and went immediately to the sink, not bothering to reach for a goblet, but rather cupping the chilling water in his hands and drinking deeply. He gave a grunt of relief, splashed his face and straightened up to gaze around the kitchen for a prospective breakfast he could gobble down.

His eyes came to rest on the _Daily Prophet_ that lay unfolded on the kitchen table. Frowning at the patchy photograph emblazoned on the front page, he padded forward to snatch up the paper. The ache in his head threatened to burst as he read the headline.

'Not today,' he muttered to himself. 'Why does it have to be today?'

* * *

Breakfast commenced in much the same manner as it did each morning in the Great Hall. Rose Weasley and Albus Potter arrived earlier than most students and found seats at the end of Gryffindor table; James Potter loped in later than most students and made a spectacle of pinching toast out of Lydia Thomas's plate; Scorpius Malfoy and Zaina Faheem exchanged looks of disdain and waited for the Quidditch Captain to depart from the Ravenclaw table; Lily Potter ignored the greetings called to her from several third-year boys to traipsed down the hall to join her friends; Chandra Thomas floated in just before the post arrived looking sullen and fighting to keep her eyes open.

'Where were you last night?' asked Rose, sliding along the table to make room for Chandra beside her. 'You were still out when I got back from patrol.'

Chandra gave a great sigh of dismay and laid her head heavily on the table. 'Connor,' was the only reply she offered.

Rose grinned and rolled her eyes as Albus returned to his porridge, looking bitter, before Chandra continued woefully.

'He just won't leave me alone! Every night he wants me to come meet him! I don't know what classes he's taking but he must not be getting any homework at all because I don't know where he finds the time! I stayed up until two in the morning after I left him the other night trying to finish that potions essay and I have no clue what any of it was about! Fifth year is _hard!'_

'Take a look at Al's essay,' suggested Rose, before turning to Albus and asking, 'You'll give her a hand, won't you?'

Chandra raised her head wearily to turn beseeching brown eyes to Albus, who swallowed his mouthful of porridge in such a haste that he gagged and reached urgently for a glass of pumpkin juice.

'Sure,' he spluttered once he had managed to get his throat clear. 'I mean, it's not very good – I need to edit it before I hand it in. I'm not even sure it's what Professor Blotts was after-'

'Shut it, Al, you did fine,' Rose dismissed.

'Oh, Al, really?' asked Chandra eagerly, straightening up. 'Oh, Albus, that's so sweet – I'll make it up to you – I'll buy you whatever you like from Honeydukes next month, okay?'

Albus would have liked to decline, but the glowing look of glee on Chandra's face seemed to have inebriated him and all he could manage was a mumbled, 'Okay.'

'God, I wish James would shut up,' sighed Rose, glancing across at the Ravenclaw table where James was now perched in amongst a group of seventh year girls, Lydia Thomas laughing breathlessly at something he had just said. 'Can't he do us all a favour and try to get off with girls in his own time?'

Albus gave a nod of agreement. 'He went to see her last night. You'd think she'd be sick of him by now.'

Chandra glanced over her shoulder before spinning back to Albus. 'He went to see Lydia last night?'

'He was meeting her down by the lake.'

'Oh,' murmured Chandra, looking thoroughly dejected, before laying her head back on the table. 'She never told me she liked him.'

'Down by the lake?' inquired Rose of Albus.

'Yeah.'

'Well, I doubt it. I caught him sneaking around the North wing last night while I was on patrol. The North wing's nowhere near the lake.'

Chandra's head picked up once more. 'Really?'

'Yeah. Mei Zhao – who, by the way, is about as pleasant to spend an evening with as Lucy - wanted to turn him over to Neville. I would have let her if I had known he'd be carrying on like this all morning.'

'Did he say what he was doing in the North wing?' asked Albus prudishly.

'No idea. I've learnt not to ask.'

Albus glanced around to the Ravenclaw table once more, gazing at his brother as Lydia Thomas spiralled into another fit of giggles. What was it, Albus mused, that people found so attractive about James? Was it his swagger? His incessant babble? Was it his unruly hair, his sharp jaw, the scars along his arms from duelling and Quidditch, accompanied by the arching gash across his cheek?

Albus brought his train of thought to a halt; had that cut been there the previous evening? He recalled nothing, but then again he had been distracted by his bleeding hand and the debate about Quidditch try-outs; could he have missed something like a small wound?

But it wasn't that small, Albus reasoned as he picked at his porridge; if he could now see it at a distance from across the Great Hall surely he would have registered it when standing feet apart in the common room.

When he glanced back across the room he realised with a jolt that James had disappeared from the Ravenclaw table and he scoured the Great Hall to see the Quidditch captain striding up alongside the Gryffindor table towards him. As he grew nearer Albus could see the detail of the cut, stretching from the ridge of his nose to the arch of his cheekbone and accompanied, Albus now saw, with a medley of bruises trailing up James' arm.

'Morning, you lot,' said James, dropping down beside them and plucking an apple from the fruit bowl at the centre of the table. 'Talk to Vane yet, Ducky?'

'Merlin, James,' interjected Rose before Albus could retort, 'what's wrong with your face?'

James ran a hand through his hair and turned to Rose, looking smug. 'That's not very nice, Rosie.'

'Don't let Zhao see,' she warned. 'After we saw you last night she went on and on about going to tell Neville. If she sees you looking like that she'll definitely report it.'

'Duly noted,' he replied, taking a bite of his apple, before turning back to his brother. 'So you're going to ask him today?'

'Why can't you ask him?' grumbled Albus.

'I don't want to talk to him. He's a twat.'

'Then why do you want him on the team?' demanded Albus.. 'Seriously, James, what did you do last night? That looks really bad.'

'I told you, I had a rendezvous with the lovely miss Thomas. Well, the _other_ lovely miss Thomas,' he told them, flashing a grin at Chandra who responded by going beet-red.

'Lydia did _that?'_ drawled Rose sceptically.

'Yeah, she likes to play rough,' James told her, munching on the apple. 'You'll understand when you're older, Rosie. Anyway, I'll see you lot later. Ducky, don't forget to ask him.'

Scowling, Albus watched James slide from his chair and trudge out of the Great Hall as the sound of beating wings from overhead announced the arrival of the morning post.

'I don't think Lydia would do _that_ ,' said Chandra thoughtfully as Rose paid a _Daily Prophet_ owl for the morning paper. 'She hates blood.'

Rose did not reply, shaking open the paper to scour the headlines before heaving a great sigh. 'Oh, Merlin.'

Albus straightened up, craning in his seat for a glimpse of the front page. 'What? What's happened?'

'Don't worry,' said Rose, tossing the paper across to him. 'Just idiots.'

The front page of the _Prophet_ was adorned with a large photograph of a street he recognised as Diagon Alley, along with a headline proclaiming:

 _DIAGON ALLEY VANDALISED BY BLOOD EQUALITY ACTIVISTS_

Albus gave a grimace, laying the paper on the table to allow Chandra to join him in reading. He leaned in to better study the black and white photograph, recognising the shop front of Flourish & Blotts, some misshapen object hoisted to hang from the building's awnings.

'Merlin, is that-'

'Yep,' said Rose wryly. 'Grim, isn't it?'

He recognised now what the lopsided shape swinging in the wind was intended to be; a sack of flour tightened around the middle to give it the illusion of a torso and a head, four lopsided limbs stitched onto its sides, a mop of yellow yarn atop its head in the place of hair, rope tightened around its would-be neck holding it aloft. The makeshift replica of Mikhael Rowle had been lynched, a stitched on tongue lolling out of its painted mouth.

'What good is that supposed to do for anyone?' asked Albus weakly.

'But nobody was actually hurt, were they?' asked Chandra nervously. 'It's just some graffiti, right?'

In answer to her question, Albus began reading the accompanying article aloud.

' _Shop-owners and visitors to the famous Diagon Alley were shocked to find the historical street vandalised with crude anti-Pureblood graffiti this morning._

 _'_ _The vandalism is suspected to be the work of blood equality activists. Over twenty shop fronts were scrawled with magical ink bearing such slogans as "blood equality now" and "death to blood supremacists". Ministry officials have scrambled to repair the damage, which also included a number of broken windows and petty robbery, but have remained tight-lipped in regards to their knowledge of the culprits._

 _'_ _Perhaps the most unsettling feature of the scene was a replica of Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Mikhael Rowle which had been strung over the front door of the bookshop Flourish & Blotts simulating a hanging. Formerly of the Misuse of Magical Artefacts Office, Rowle expressed support for the anti-blood equality protests in 1999._

 _'_ _The desecration of the Magical stronghold comes not two weeks after the murder of Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement Gustav Gamp, an outspoken advocate against the Ministry's affirmative action programs to tackle prejudice against Muggle-borns._

 _'"_ _There will be a press-conference held later this morning addressing what we know so far," said Gamp's successor, Hermione Granger. "Until then we are unable to give any further information in regards to the vandalism."_

'Rosie, it's still so weird reading about your mum in the paper,' said Chandra when Albus finished reading. 'She's so important! It's so cool!'

'You don't think Malfoy could have snuck out again, do you?' suggested Albus in an undertone. 'You know, maybe he and his dad did it… If they want Gamp dead they might want Rowle dead too.'

'If only Connor hasn't been out with me all night,' said Chandra sadly. 'We could have asked him if he saw Malfoy leaving.'

'Any connection to Gamp's death has been totally surmised by whoever wrote the article,' Rose told him. 'The Ministry hasn't even held a press release yet. They probably caught Mum on her way into the office. The journalists hang around the atrium – she's always complaining about it.'

'So it's just a coincidence that someone like Gamp gets killed and two weeks later there's blood equality vandalism all over Diagon Alley?' grumbled Albus. 'It can't just be a coincidence.'

'Well, think about it,' began Rose. 'Once Gamp died the _Prophet_ was suddenly full of Purebloods coming out saying that he was killed because of his views on blood equality – all these idiots on the radio talking about Purebloods needing to protect themselves. So of course people are going to be upset when they begin to realise that our society is still as riddled with bigots as it was during the war. So now some stupid kids have taken it upon themselves to send a message to the Ministry trying to get Rowle removed as Deputy.'

'Yeah, exactly, stupid kids!' insisted Albus. 'Malfoy's pretty thick if you ask me.'

'Malfoy's not the right demographic,' said Rose matter-of-factly. 'His family just tries to mind their own business. It would be much more likely for it to have been done by a Muggle-born, or someone whose family fought in the war.' She paused to take a sip of pumpkin juice, before adding rather slyly, 'Like us.'

Chandra looked between Rose and Albus, looking bemused, while Albus fixed Rose with a shrewd glare. 'What does that mean?'

'Well, we all know that James has ways of getting out of the castle.'

Albus was stumped into silence, before Chandra said rather wistfully, 'That's very brave of him! Protesting Rowle and all those awful people supporting him.'

'No, Chandra, it's just stupid,' said Rose. 'Gamp gets killed and the Purebloods come out in support of him, so then blood equality activists come out threatening Rowle, so now the Purebloods are going to do something back. Just wait – I bet the WWN tonight is just going to be full of idiots going on about how Muggle-borns are threatening our society.'

Albus finally found his voice and gave a protest of, 'Yeah, but James isn't so stupid as to think threatening Rowle is going to do any good!'

'Isn't he?'

Albus glared at her, looking livid. 'You just don't want Malfoy to be guilty because you don't like it when your mum and dad are right about things.'

'Just because you have familial issues don't mean we all do - oh, god, here we go…'

Rose fell silent as she gazed over Albus's shoulder, and he swivelled in his seat to see Mei Zhao stalking over to them from along the aisle. Her long, black ponytail was swishing vigorously as she walked and the strong, sculpted quality of her face was only intensified by her haughty scowl.

'Weasley,' said the Ravenclaw when she reached them.

'Zhao.'

'I just saw your cousin.'

'That's not a surprise. I have many.'

'James Potter,' said Zhao. 'He's done something to his face.'

'Yes, he'll do that.'

'Well, I doubt he did it down in the library, do you?'

At this Rose gave no reply, but merely folded up her copy of the _Prophet_ and stuffed into her book bag.

'You know if he got caught, it would be you and I who would get the flak?' continued Zhao.

'And how do you figure that?' asked Rose coolly.

'Because you were the one who wanted to let him go off to the library,' Mei informed her hotly. 'So I just thought I'd let you know that next time we see someone out after curfew we're going straight to their head of house, alright?'

'Sounds brilliant.' And with that Rose jumped to her feet. 'I'm going to class.'

She stalked away and Chandra too jumped to her feet, hurrying after the redhead.

Zhao stood before Albus, glaring at Rose's retreating figure, and Albus made to hurry after his housemates before Zhao's sharp voice called him back. 'You're James Potter's brother, aren't you? Albus?'

Albus glanced back at her. Her dark eyes were narrowed warningly. 'Er, yeah, and you're…'

'Mei Zhao. It seems pretty clear Weasley's not going to do anything about your brother, so if I were you I'd say something to him.'

'Er… I…'

'It doesn't bother me if he gets expelled, but I'm sure _you_ wouldn't want him to, right?'

'No, I wouldn't, but…'

'Good. Then tell him not to let us see him out after curfew again. And you can tell Weasley that if she's not going to take this seriously then I'll be talking to the Head Girl and getting my patrol partner switched.'

Albus gave a rather bewildered nod. 'Yeah, right, I… sorry about her. She's a bit…'

'Unpleasant?' said Zhao curtly. 'It's not your fault, is it?'

'Well, no, but…'

'Well, then maybe I should be saying sorry for you seeming you're the one whose related to her. Not to mention your brother. Anyway, I'll see you.'

She turned on her heel and marched away. He watched her go, somewhere between bemusement and exhilaration. At least, he thought as he returned to his porridge, he could trust that there was someone who could be counted upon to jump on any absconders leaving Ravenclaw tower after the curfew.

* * *

'Very good, Mr Jiang! Keep at it now!' Professor Doge called as he made his way around the room. 'Very good indeed! Mr Corner, may I suggest keeping your wrist a little stiffer…'

James had known it was coming, and so when the Professor was safely preoccupied at the front of the room and Finlay had caught his arm, James was unsurprised. He allowed his dorm-mate to pull him out of hearing distance of the other Gryffindors, leading him in a few long strides do the back of the room.

'What?'

Finlay did not appear to have heard him, but raised his arm once more to mime the charm, before he hissed at him, 'What happened last night?'

Smirking, James raised his own wand. 'It's brilliant. I told you it would be.'

'Have you looked in the mirror this morning?'

'Nothing you can't fix up.'

'But that's not the point, is it?' growled Finlay. 'Doge's been looking at you all morning.'

'Yeah, but who can blame him? He's only human. _Expecto Patronum!'_

Finlay watched, glaring, as a large burst of silvery vapour streamed from the tip of James's wand, twisting through the air above them.

'Would you listen?' snarled Finlay, catching James's wrist as the latter made to raise his wand for another attempt. 'Doge might not say anything, but that doesn't mean the other teachers wouldn't. Smith _loathes_ you – he'd love to turn you in –'

'Enough chatter at the back there, boys,' came Doge's wheezing voice from across the room.

'Sorry, Professor,' replied Finlay. He raised his wand and spared a few seconds to attempt the charm once more until he was satisfied that Doge was no longer looking; he turned back to James. 'If you're going to keep turning up at school with bruises all over you somebody's going to say something. They'll figure out you've been leaving the castle – '

'You've never minded leaving the castle when it involves getting pissed in Hogsmeade.'

'I'm not having a go at you about leaving the castle,' Finlay snapped back. 'So you get kicked out of school – whatever. That's not the problem. The problem is that this stuff – it's _illegal_ , James.'

'If you just came along with me you'd see it's not such a big deal. And it's good money.'

'Good enough to get yourself killed?'

'Merlin, lighten up, would you? You sound like my mother. You need money; I need money; don't get shitty just because I'm actually getting somewhere with it.'

Finlay dropped his wand to his side and rounded on James, looking mutinous. 'For fuck's sake, James, you can be a real prat, you know?'

James, however, had apparently lost interest. He raised his wand, his mind on the pocketful of galleons he had returned to the castle with the previous evening, his imagination wondering to the prospects the money offered. ' _Expecto Patronum!'_

Something huge and silver burst from the tip of James's wand and Finlay lurched back in surprise. It lasted only a few seconds, leaping across the room, drawing gasps from all across the room, before it vanished into a few wispy clouds of vapour.

Doge appeared beside them in an instant, having dashed across to the back on the room, his lined face alight with excitement and his chest heaving for breath. 'Mr Potter, was that… I do believe… our first corporeal Patronus for the year! Twenty points to Gryffindor!'

There was a murmur of excitement from amongst the Gryffindors in the class and Julian Jiang gave James a heavy clap on the shoulder. Finlay, however, was not smiling.

'I knew you'd pick it up quickly, James,' said Doge eagerly, beaming up at the Quidditch captain. 'I don't believe I've seen a student conjure a corporeal Patronus this quickly in all my years teaching.'

James gave a shrug, and he raised a hand to run it absently through his hair. 'Yeah, well, it only lasted a second.'

Finlay rolled his eyes. The sly grin across James's face told him that the modesty was wholly fabricated.

'Yes, but even so, far better than I was expecting for our first practical lesson! Forgive me, I didn't have time to get a good look at it – perhaps you will be the better judge. It took the form of a lion, no?'

James shrugged again, unable to suppress the wide smile across his face. 'Looked like it, yeah.'

'Ah, a true Gryffindor if ever I saw one! Well, I am just thrilled at how you have all conducted yourselves in this lesson, and I do believe you have earned yourself an early lunch!'

There was a collective murmur of glee from around the classroom as students stowed away their wands and returned to their desks to gather up their school bags.

'Now your homework for the weekend will be simply to practice the Patronus Charm,' Doge called over the babble of students. 'And if you could find the time it would be beneficial to you all to read chapter ten – it gives a very concise insight into the Patronus's use a messenger, which I don't doubt will be covered in your exams. James, a word before you go, if I may?'

James, in the process of stuffing his medley of books unceremoniously into his satchel, looked up at the professor to give a nod before turning to Finlay. 'Wait for me?'

Finlay gave no reply other than hoisting his satchel over his shoulder and marching towards the door to join their dorm-mates, hurrying out of the room. Scowling, James strode across to meet Doge at his desk, watching as the Professor dusted off the blackboard with a wave of his wand.

'Now, James,' began Doge once the final stragglers had left the classroom, 'you know that I have always been very pleased with the level of skill you continuously display in my classroom…'

'Well, I've had a good teacher, Professor.'

A smile crept across Doge's weathered face. 'Oh, James, I do believe it would be vain of me to pretend that your dexterity at Defense Against the Dark Arts has much less to do with my teaching than your natural ability.'

'You're making me blush, Professor, but I have Charms now and you know how Professor Smith is-'

'That, James, is what I wanted to talk to you about,' said Doge, suddenly sounding grave. 'That looks like I nasty cut on your face, and while I am not interested in learning how you acquired it, I'm sure that Professor Smith will be. I would recommend that you make certain that whatever you found yourself doing last night remain a one-off event. I don't want to see my best student expelled just months before he is to sit his NEWTs.'

James blinked down at the old professor before giving a stiff nod. 'Whatever you say, sir.'

'I'd suggest a visit to the hospital wing if I may, Mr Potter. It may spare you some uncomfortable questions.'

'Right. Thanks, Professor.'

'Let's not mention it again, Mr Potter.'

And with that Doge crossed to the door and gestured for James to exit.

* * *

Albus passed that day's History of Magic lesson as he passed most history lesson: feigning what he hoped was a vaguely convincing show of attentiveness by staring through Professor's Binns's transparent body at the blackboard and assessing his chances of making it onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Professor Binns was apparently oblivious as ever to the fact that he had lost his audience within five minutes of his lecture and as the lesson drew to a close Albus found himself to be one of the few students still conscious. Rose had propped a book open in her lap and was reading it concealed beneath her desk while Chandra was falling in and out of sleep with her head propped unsteadily up in her hand.

'…now you'll all remember that by this time earlier Celtic spell-work had fallen largely in disuse to be replaced by the much broader Latin lexicon of spells,' drawled Professor Binns, 'but I won't go into that now as I'm sure you've all read up on it for your essay's…'

From beside him he heard Chandra give a tiny murmur of panic before he caught her lean towards him and whisper, 'Have you started your essay?'

He shook his head in response, keeping his eyes fixed ahead so as not to attract Binns's attention.

'I can't believe we have a history essay _and_ a potions essay due in the same week,' murmured Chandra solemnly. 'Would you be free on Saturday to help me with the Potions one?'

Albus swallowed heavily and whispered back, 'Saturday I can't, I've got… stuff.'

Chandra looked excited. 'Oooh, what stuff?'

'Nothing, I just… I told James I'd… help him with… stuff.'

Rose flipped the page of her book and asked without looking up, 'Help him with what?'

'Nothing.'

'I see,' said Rose in an undertone. 'It wouldn't have anything to do with Quidditch try-outs, would it?'

'Ooh, Quidditch!' trilled Chandra breathlessly. 'Are you trying out, Al?'

Before Albus could mumble out an excuse, he was interrupted by a loud scoff from behind them and he spun around to see Emory Vane leering at him from his desk.

' _You're_ trying out for the team, Potter? You've got to be joking.'

'Emory…' sighed Hamish Coote warningly from beside his friend as he scribbled out notes into his book.

'What? I'm just saying,' said Emory with a shrug. 'I'd pay to see Potter try to mount a broom, wouldn't you, Hamish?'

'Personally I'd rather see a repeat of last year's try-outs,' said Rose without a glance around. 'Or was it the year before that you crashed into the goal posts, Vane?'

Vane's eyes narrowed, fixing the back of Rose's bushy head with a glare. 'I'd stick to what you know, Weasley, and that's how to be a bitch and not much else.'

Chandra gave an affronted gasp and Hamish gave a hissed, 'Shut up, Emory.'

Chandra leant in close to Rose and whispered hotly, 'He can't talk to you like that!'

'Why? He talks to everyone else likes that,' said Rose simply, returning to her book. 'So you're going to try out, Al?'

Emory gave another snort of laughter from behind them and this time Chandra rounded on him.

'Emory,' she began severely, 'you're being really mean. You shouldn't call Rose names, and for all you know Albus could be a really brilliant flyer-'

'He could be, but seeming he's rubbish at everything else he tries it's a safe bet he's rubbish at that too,' retorted Emory.

'You really shouldn't say that to people, Emory. How would you like it if Albus made fun of your flying?'

But before Emory could reply Rose had thrust her hand into the air and, in what was apparently an attempt to end the quarrelling, called loudly, 'Excuse me, Professor Binns?'

Professor Binns fell silent, scanning the room as if surprised to find students there. 'Yes, Miss Wilkins?'

'I was wondering if you could recommend any books to look up the ancestry of spell etymology,' said Rose. 'I've been looking in the library but I haven't found anything too useful.'

'Oh, well, let me see,' said Binns thoughtfully, 'I suppose _The History of Magical Language_ by Karim B. Shafiq could be quite informative, or if you'd like some practical knowledge you could try the House of Magical Ancestry and Artefacts…'

'That place that's opening down in Hogsmeade?' piped up Hamish.

'Precisely, Mr Collins. It has many wonderful displays relating to Magical lineage and migration, and a very expansive library…'

'But there was an article about that in the paper the other day,' interrupted Kim Nguyen from across the room. 'It was saying it was really biased towards Pureblood history. It doesn't have any information on the history or achievement of Muggle-borns.'

'Oh, well, come now,' said Binns rather impatiently, 'it's only natural for an establishment dedicated to praising the history of Magical kind in Great Britain will have more information on the older Wizarding families. The fact of the matter is that they've had the greatest impact on Wizarding history. Now if we can return to the spread of Latin…'

'That's not true, though,' said Hamish rather forcefully. 'Nobby Leach was a Muggle-born and it was while he was Minister that the Ministry started funding St. Mungo's.'

'Yes, but Nobby Leach is just one man,' countered Zaina Faheem from across the room before Binns could open his mouth. 'There were thousands of other wizards who did things much more relevant to the history of Wizarding societies.'

'But Zaina,' said Connor Davies rather uncertainly, looking to his house mate, 'don't you think that might be because, well…'

He trailed off under Zaina's warning gaze and she tossed her long, dark curls over her shoulder before retorting. 'Because of _what,_ Connor? Nobby Leach didn't come around until the 1960s. You can't pretend that it wasn't Wizarding families who have played much more important roles in Wizarding history.

Connor gave no sign of agreement, but nor did he make to protest further, until from across the room Chandra raised her hand slowly into the air. 'Um, excuse me, Professor Binns?'

Binns, who had been looking utterly baffled by what Albus was sure was his first experience with students expressing anything other than apathy towards his subject, seemed particularly startled to now see a student addressing him as politely as Chandra did. 'Yes, Thompson?'

'Well, I'm not sure but… but a lot of people in the Order of the Phoenix were Muggle-borns and half-bloods, weren't they?' said Chandra uncertainly. 'And… and they did very important things, don't you think?'

'Well, of course _you're_ going to say that,' Zaina interjected. 'You're friends with all of them.'

Chandra blinked at Zaina, apparently bemused by the vitriol directed at her from the Ravenclaw. 'Yes, but… but everyone knows how important the Order was. I mean, if they hadn't been around then surely You-Know-Who…' Chandra looked to Rose and Albus for encouragement, but Albus could not muster the strength to get involved; he found that classes turned to the topic of his father far too frequently for his comfort. Chandra turned back to the professor, finishing rather clumsily, 'I suppose I'm not really sure. I don't know.

'Well, no, you wouldn't, would you?' drawled Zaina. 'You-Know-Who has nothing to do with your nail polish, does it, Chandra?'

Albus felt a rush of anger and searched for a response, but Rose, who had until then shown no regard for anything but her book, looked up at Zaina and said coolly, 'Every historian with any credibility whatsoever could tell you that the Second Wizarding War totally reshaped Britain. Even J. D. Harper says so at the end of the semester's prescribed book. But you'd already know that if you'd bothered reading it, Faheem.'

Zaina immaculate face flashed with anger. 'You are so… you have no idea… you're so…' In her anger, Zaina seemed unable to formulate a retort, and she sufficed to swivel in her seat to face her boyfriend and demand heatedly, 'Purebloods have done more for Wizarding Britain, haven't they, Scorpius?'

All around the room, eyes swivelled towards the blond, who had until then been reclining in his chair on it's two back legs wearing a look of enduring boredom. When addressed by Zaina, he straightened up and bought his chair back to the ground. He gazed at his girlfriend, looking both startled and irritated at being asked to give his input. 'Well,' he began tiredly, 'I suppose so.' And for an instant, Albus was sure he caught the Ravenclaw's eyes flicker in his direction before fixing back on a smug-looking Zaina. 'But then again, that might have something to do with the fact that Ministry didn't start hiring Muggle-borns until the 1890s.'

The room was plunged into silence, spare for Chandra's horrified inquiry to Rose of, ' _Is that really true?'_

'That's got nothing to do with it,' Zaina snarled.

Scorpius gave a shrug and returned to reclining in his chair. Zaina continued to glare at him fiercely, the rest of the class watching eagerly in anticipation of further confrontation, until from above their heads the bell chimed.

'Ah, I'm afraid that's all we have time for today,' said Binns wearily, sounding thoroughly relieved. 'I'll be expecting your essays on Monday and from there we'll be moving on to the influence of Norman incantations across the British Isles.'

Albus thought Binns may as well have saved his breath; it was apparent the students were no longer sparing him any mind. Kim Nguyen gathered up her things and left the room with Elena Fortescue and Sally Wood, whispering mutinously with them. Rose stuffed her books into her bag, scowling. Across the room Zaina Faheem was muttering something heatedly to Scorpius Malfoy as the other Ravenclaws hurried off, looking uncomfortable.

'But the 1890s,' said Chandra, once she, Albus and Rose were out in the corridor on their way down to lunch, 'that's not even that long ago! The Ministry has done some really bad things, don't you think?'

'Yes, I suppose so,' said Rose dryly.

'But I guess this means Scorpius Malfoy really might have wanted to vandalise Diagon Alley, doesn't it?' said Albus. 'It seems he doesn't like the Ministry very much – Rose, stop looking at me like that! Were you listening to him? He obviously doesn't like Rowle.'

Rose pursed her lips and quickened her pace as they reached the marble staircase. 'Honestly, Al, is that what you took away from that?'

'Well, what did _you_ take away from it?'

'That he likes annoying his girlfriend,' said Rose flatly. 'Anyway, forget that. So you're trying out for Quidditch?'

Albus's suppressed a grimace and threw a look over his shoulder to ensure Emory Vane wasn't nearby. 'Er, yeah, I think so…'

'Good,' said Rose hotly. 'And if Vane tries out too, do us all a favour and try to knock him off his broom.'

* * *

The clock ticked against the wall and his head throbbed on. He peered down at his notepad, his eyes darting over the mess of scribbled notes before him. What he wouldn't give to allow himself a break, or a glass of water, or something to eat, or anything outside of the tiny, cramped, over-heated room that he had found himself locked in for a good part of two hours.

He removed his glasses a raised a hand to press the palm of his hands into his eyes, rubbing fiercely, before heaving a heavy sigh a reclining in his chair. 'You'd be doing us both a favour if you just answered by questions, Draco.'

Draco Malfoy's eyes flickered towards him. The lines across his pale face seemed to have deepened since their last meeting not three weeks ago. 'I have nothing more to say to you.'

Harry gave an impatient sigh and straightened up, flicking open the file before him. 'We've been over this, Draco. We know you weren't at home with your wife all night. St Mungo's confirmed that your wife has been in their care since yesterday afternoon. You're going to have to think of a new alibi.'

'I don't have to provide another alibi,' hissed Draco. 'I know how the law works, Potter. You're basing your suspicion on nothing more than the testimony of a dead elf. You'll eventually have to find someone else to pin this rubbish on.'

'I'm just doing my job, Draco,' said Harry evenly, replacing his glasses back on his ears. 'How about we take a break, and when I come back you can tell me where you really were last night, alright?'

Draco was silent as the auror got to his feet and strode across the room, stepping out into the over lit corridor and shutting the door behind him. He had half a mind to release Draco Malfoy purely to get himself out of the room.

The auror office was bustling with motion when he stepped into it. He strode across the room to the reception desk where Dominique was perched, but she was not alone; Teddy was leaning up against the desk and he was in the midst of laughing. Harry found himself wincing as he was approaching; he did not have the energy for conversation. He saw Dominique catch sight of him and her face fell, turning from beaming to stern in an instant, and he watched her begin to scramble with the paperwork before her in an attempt to feign business.

Teddy turned to look for the source of Dominique's discomfort and, catching sight of godfather, his face split into a grin. 'Harry, there you are!'

'Teddy,' he said as he reached them, forcing a smile. 'Here again, are you?'

'Yeah, it's been a quiet day. No call outs.'

'Lucky you. Dom, could you send a memo to Hermione's office for me?'

Dominique immediately scrambled for her quill. 'Oh, yes, Harry, sure… Just give me a second…'

'Right,' said Harry slowly, willing himself to be patient as Dominique rummaged through her desk in search of the memo pad. 'Let her know I want to place Draco Malfoy under house arrest and I need her approval.'

'Draco Malfoy?' said Teddy, surprised. 'What, you don't think it's him who did that Diagon Alley rubbish?'

'If I knew, Teddy, I certainly couldn't tell a field officer in the Beast Division,' said Harry wryly, to which Teddy gave him an impish smile.

'House arrest,' said Dominique slowly as she scribbled out the memo. 'So, you're going to arrest him?'

'Not exactly,' said Harry slowly. 'He's not cooperating with our investigation. We don't have enough evidence to have him arrested, but until he complies he will be house bound and under guard of hit-wizards. I'll be in my office, Dom, so let me know when Hermione replies, could you?'

'Sure.'

'Thanks. See you, Teddy.'

He turned away from them, leaving Dominique scribbling over the memos and strode towards his office. He shut the door behind him, but not before he heard Teddy mutter across to Dominique, 'Hung over as hell, isn't he?'

* * *

' _And now, we are very pleased to bring our listeners an exclusive interview with Deputy Minister for Magic Ida Bones, who joins us today in our studio. Evening, Ms Bones.'_

 _'Evening, Stewart, thank you for having me.'_

 _'And with Ms Bones and myself is Deputy Head of the DMLE Mr Mikhael Rowle. How are you this evening, Mr Rowle?'_

 _'Very good indeed, thank you, Stewart.'_

Zaina let out a huff and viciously flipped the page of the _Witch Weekly_ propped open on her lap. 'Louisa, change the station.'

Louisa did as she was instructed, leaning across the arm of the settee to reach for the wireless, but Connor caught her hand.

'Don't. I want to listen.'

Zaina scoffed. 'What on earth for?'

'Because it's important – my dad reckons Shacklebolt will be forced to reappoint the heads of the DMLE is they can't clear up who got Gamp.'

'Connor, you dad works for the Misuse of Magical Artefacts Office. What the hell does he know?' said Kienan.

' _Ms Bones, there has been some speculation that the vandalism in Diagon Alley this week may point to further anti-Pureblood action.'_

 _'Well, Stewart, our Aurors are looking into it but they see no need for concern. We believe it to be the work of petty vandals and the Minister and myself would urge people not to worry.'_

 _'And what is your take on this, Mr Rowle? Are you at all concerned for your safety?'_

 _'Well, Stewart, I am of course alarmed to see such rabid anti-establishment sentiment in our community, but that is not to say that I am at all tempted to change my stance…'_

'Come on, Connor, let me change it,' pleaded Louisa. 'They're playing the new Twelve Fangs album on the next station.'

'I don't want to listen to that crap,' grumbled Kienan.

'Shall we vote on it?' said Zaina, and without waiting for consent she threw her arm in the air. 'All in favour of Twelve Fangs?'

Louisa's hand shot into the air. Connor and Kienan remained stationary. Zaina shot a pointed look to the armchair beside the fire. 'Scorpius?'

The blond's eyes swivelled away from the fireplace to his girlfriend. 'What?'

'We're changing the station. Agreed?'

'Okay.'

'I'd want to listen if I were you, Scorp,' said Connor.

Scorpius's pale eyes narrowed. 'Why?'

'They'll be on about your dad in a minute. Listen – they're listing suspects. Or has his name been cleared yet?'

Scorpius gave no reply but rather fixed Connor with a venomous look. There was silence amongst them, all for the scratchy voices echoing from the wireless.

' _Yes, yes, yes, but as I've said,' Ida Bones was saying, 'the Auror Office has given the Minister it's assurance that the terrible tragedy of Gustav Gamp's death is in no way linked to the Diagon Alley vandalism.'_

 _'Yes, as you've told us, Ms Bones,'_ said Stewart, incessantly jolly, ' _but I believe I asked for a list of suspects, so if you wouldn't mind, could you give us any names?_ '

There was a pause as Ida Bones hesitated. ' _Well, I believe there was mention in the Prophet earlier this week – Draco Malfoy has been placed under house watch as the Aurors continue their investigation…_ '

' _Oh, yes, on the front page, wasn't it?'_ said Stewart, sounding rather excited. ' _The Minister_ _gave his approval, didn't he?'_

 _'Oh, forgive me, Ida,_ ' drawled Rowle, ' _but if I may say it's a disgrace – utter disgrace. It's profiling. The Auror Office is hoping to palm the blame off on the Pureblood community. Of course, we are a minority these days and it is rather easy for them to get away with it.'_

 _'Honestly, Mikhael, you can't believe that!'_ snapped Bones. ' _Harry Potter had good reason to investigate Draco Malfoy and you know it.'_

And suddenly, from beside the fireplace, Scorpius was on his feet. The eyes of his year mates, which had until now been so carefully angled away from him, now jumped towards the blond.

'Where are you going?' asked Zaina shrewdly.

'Library,' said Scorpius. 'Forgot I need a Runes book for that essay due next week.'

'I'll come with you-'

'No,' said Scorpius harshly, holding up a hand as Zaina made to stand. 'No, stay and listen to that album. These two will be bickering all night.'

Louisa gave a trill of glee and reached for the wireless, but Zaina merely glared up at her boyfriend.

* * *

 _'Honestly, Mikhael, you can't believe that!'_ snapped Bones. ' _Harry Potter had good reason to investigate Draco Malfoy and you know it.'_

' _Forgive me, Ida, but it is no secret that Mr Potter has had a long vendetta against the Malfoy family.'_

 _'It was Harry Potter who got the Malfoys amnesty after the war!'_

 _'A political power play, of course. Harry Potter was very sensible in trying to appear sympathetic towards Purebloods, but obviously he has no need to do so anymore.'_

 _'That is rubbish, Mikhael, and you know it!'_

 _'Ida, please calm yourself. I am merely sharing my thoughts on the situation. I believe that is why Stewart invited us both here today. Not to bicker like children, don't you agree?'_

'Prick,' said Rose viciously, aiming her wand at the wireless and silencing it with a sharp flick. 'Total and utter prick.'

'He's not very nice, is he?' said Chandra solemnly as she shuffled her deck of tarot cards.

'He's absolutely detestable, Chandra,' said Rose hotly. 'And why on _earth_ they keep inviting him onto the radio? This is what Mum gets for refusing to talk to the press. She thinks she's undermining them by refusing them interviews but really it just gives that bastard more airtime.'

'You don't _really_ think anyone will try to kill him, do you?' said Albus as he divided the stack of cards Chandra had placed before him.

'Of course not. You heard what Bones said – the Auror office thinks it's unrelated. Rowle's just playing it up to get sympathy.'

'The Fool,' said Chandra rather pointedly, drawing Albus's attention away from Rose as she placed the card before him.

'I'm a fool?' asked Albus uncertainly.

'No, no, no, Al, it doesn't mean that at all!' Chandra assured him earnestly. 'It's a good thing! Starting a journey and new beginnings and stuff! Like starting on the Quidditch team!'

Albus's stomach gave an unpleasant turn as Chandra moved onto the next card. 'You know, I think I might go for a walk.'

Chandra glanced up at him with wide, brown eyes from the floor of the common room. 'But I haven't finished your reading, Al!'

He gestured across the room to the armchair by the fire where Rose was sitting, having opened up her warn copy of _Great Expectations_ on her lap. 'But you can do Rose, can't you?'

'I already did Rose…'

Chandra looked thoroughly dejected as he got to his feet, but wish as he did not to offend her, he was feeling suddenly suffocated in the balmy common room. As the days drew nearer to try-outs, even the mention of Quidditch had begun to bring on bouts of nausea. Chandra seemed to be keen to mention Quidditch seemlingly at any moment she could, bringing it into conversations Albus felt Quidditch truly didn't belong, and while he knew she intended to be encouraging she had had the opposite effect.

He thought dully of the morning to come. He would wake up, make his way to the Quidditch pitch, be laughed at by James, perform his dismal attempt as seeking, be laughed at by everyone else present, then return to the castle utterly humiliated.

He watched his feet as he rounded the corner to the marble staircase, and his reverie very nearly crashed into another someone. He straightened up, darting away, and began a mumbled apology.

'Sorry, I didn't see- oh.'

Scorpius Malfoy stood before him, having just emerged from behind a tapestry that Albus knew offered a shortcut down from Ravenclaw tower. There was beat of silence in which the memory of the radio broadcast came rushing back to him: Draco Malfoy was confined to his house under suspicion of murder; his own father was the one who had chosen to investigate Draco Malfoy; Draco Malfoy's son was now standing before him, something dark and venomous glinting in the boy's cold, grey eyes.

Albus dropped his gaze and made to skirt around him, but he found the Scorpius had not moved out of the way. He was standing before Albus, a good head taller than him, something unreadable working across his pale face.

Albus's stomach gave an unpleasant turn as Scorpius Malfoy opened his mouth and Albus's felt his hand reach instinctively for his wand. The motion did not go unnoticed by Scorpius's, who followed suit by reaching a hand into the pocket of his robes to reach for his own. Albus felt panic flood his mind as he searched himself for a defensive jinx, his heart beating rapidly, and Scorpius opened his mouth once more to deliver the curse-

'What are you two doing?'

Albus's hand jumped away from his wand as both he and Scorpius rounded on the new comer. Mei Zhao was approaching from down the corridor, a scowl across her face and her arms laden with heavy looking books.

'Nothing,' said Albus and Scorpius together.

'I certainly hope so,' said Mei reproachfully. 'It's nearly past curfew, you know? You should both be in your common rooms.'

'Sorry,' said Albus quickly. 'I, er… didn't see the time.'

'And you, Malfoy?'

'I have to send an owl,' said Scorpius darkly.

'Well, it can wait until tomorrow.'

'It can't actually. You're going to get back to the common room late-'

'Turn me in then,' grumbled Scorpius, and without another word he started down the corridor that would lead him to the owlery, leaving Mei gaping after him until she seemed to remember herself and rounded on Albus.

'Well, come on,' she said sharply, apparently compensating for her inability to govern Scorpius. 'Upstairs. Come with me.'

She turned neatly on her heel and started down the corridor and Albus hurried along after her. As much as he was craving solitude, he didn't see any other choice other than returning to Gryffindor tower.

They walked in silence for several moments, Mei several strides ahead of him, before she asked tersely, 'So have you spoken to your brother?'

'Er, no, I haven't.'

She slowed her pace to throw him a rather withering look over her shoulder. 'Why not?'

He didn't have any other reason other than his trust that his warning James against breaking curfew would result in nothing other than giving James a good laugh; this, however, did not seem like a very dignified response. 'Well, I… he's been distracted. He's Quidditch captain and they've got try-outs tomorrow.'

'Oh, yes, I heard about that. Some children in my common room were talking about going and watching.'

'What?' spluttered Albus. 'The Ravenclaws are watching the try-outs? Why? What are they doing that for? Aren't there rules against it or… or something?'

'No,' said Mei, and Albus's heart plummeted. 'I rather think there should be though. Obviously it's going to throw off you concentration. You're obviously worried about it already.'

'What? No, I'm not! I don't even play – I just… Can't you say anything? You're a prefect, aren't you?'

'I did recommend that they didn't,' said Mei prudishly as they started up the marble staircase. 'Of course they didn't listen. You'd think fifth years would be a little more mature.'

'It's the _fifth years going?_ '

'Yes, some of them, I think,' said Mei matter-of-factly. 'But I wouldn't worry. I'm sure you'll have a good chance of making the team if your brother's the captain.'

Albus turned scarlet. 'No, I… I mean, I suppose but… Well, no, I doubt that really.'

'Why not? You brother doesn't seem like he'd have any qualms with nepotism.'

'No, but I don't think he'd… Well, I just… James might not, er… want me on the team.'

He caught Mei shoot him a sideways glance and he quickly averted his eyes, feeling the heat rise in his face.

'Well,' said Mei bracingly as they trudged up the stairs, 'I suppose it won't matter if you turn out to be good. What position do you want to play?'

'Seeker,' he said, with some hesitation; it was the first time he had allowed himself to speak of any specifics.

'Oh, like your dad?'

'Er, yeah, I guess… How'd you know that?'

'Everyone knows that,' said Mei dismissively as they reached the next landing. 'Your common room's on this floor, right?'

Albus glanced around at his surroundings; he hadn't been following their ascent. 'Oh, yeah, it is.'

'Right, well, see you,' said Mei. 'Good luck tomorrow, I suppose.'

'Right, yeah… thanks.'

'Just ignore the spectators,' she advised. 'They're all full of themselves anyway.'

And with that she turned away from him and continued up the stairs on the way to Ravenclaw tower. He watched her long, thin legs as she marched up the stairs, watching her black ponytail swinging against her back and, once she reached the next floor and was out of sight, he listened to her rapid footsteps fading until finally the corridor was silent. He turned towards the portrait hole, feeling suddenly intoxicated by his nerves and a strange exhilaration.

* * *

James Potter looked good on a Quidditch pitch. There was some dynamic, electrical force between the boy and the gleaming grass of the pitch, some illusive coalition between him and his element. It seemed all the more pronounced on that Saturday morning, the cloudless sky overhead and the congregating students gazing upward at their prospective captain as he circled the pitch on his broom, tossing the quaffle lazily through the hoops and then diving easily to catch it, passing the time as he waited for any late-comers.

A precariously close catch – in which James feinted backwards on his broom to catch the quaffle inches from the ground – roused a murmured gasp from Chandra as they strode towards the pitch.

'Oh,' she sighed as James pulled up, quaffle tucked beneath his muscled arm to take another shot at the hoops, 'he's very good, isn't he?'

'Oh, don't,' warned Rose. 'Look at him showing off – he should have gotten them flying already. Look at everyone – it's going to take all morning to get through them all.'

It was at this moment that Albus chose to speak for the first time since the brief squeak of "good morning" he had given them in the common room before breakfast, and he did so in a quavering, high-pitched murmur. 'Maybe I won't bother then. There's so many people – and there's all the reserves from last year – and I don't even have my own broom – and I don't even really _like_ Quidditch!'

He gave a shaky laugh and fell out of line with the girls, turning back towards the castle, but Rose's hand flew out for his arm.

'Albus, don't you dare,' she warned him with a scowl. 'Come on. James's coming down – they must be starting soon.'

In spite of his protests, Rose did not permit Albus to wriggle from her grip until they reached the side-lines of the Quidditch pitch, at which point Albus abandoned his complaints and fell silent, staring wide-eyed out to the centre of the pitch where James had begun arranging his potential team-mates into year levels.

'Alright, well, off you go,' said Rose matter-of-factly, giving Albus a nudge towards the pitch. 'Good luck.'

Albus remained stationary and turned pleading green eyes towards Rose. 'I can't.'

The redhead gave a heavy sigh. 'Oh, drop it, Al. Hurry up and get out there.'

'I can't – I don't – I just _can't,_ Rose!'

'For Merlin's sake, Al, this is getting so dull! You wanted to try out so go do it!'

'I _can't!_ I'm abysmal even on Dad's Firebolt, let alone these rubbish school brooms! Oh, Merlin, what was I thinking…'

'Fine, Al,' snarled Rose, throwing her arms up in a defeat. 'Fine! Forget it, let's go back to the castle! I'm done with you carrying on like this.'

And once again she lunged for his hand, ready to drag him back to the castle. Albus stammered, threw a glance towards the congregation in the middle of the pitch, before he fell silent and made to follow Rose back up the path.

'Al, wait,' said Chandra very quickly. 'Please – you've got to try out, Al. Look, don't tell anyone, but I got you something to make it certain you make the team.'

Albus turned back to her, looking thoroughly peaky and astounded, but none-the-less alert. He watched as Chandra plunged her hand into the pocket of her pinafore and then withdrew it again, her fist closed tightly around something. He felt his heart pound in his chest, suddenly alight with hope, watching Chandra beam at him as she took his hand and pressed something small, cool and round into his fingers. He opened his fingers to gaze down into his palm, finding within it bright orange stone, chiselled into a smooth sphere.

'Oh,' he said, trying not to let his disappointment show in his voice. 'I.. er…'

'It's a carnelian,' she informed him. 'It brings good luck and helps you focus. I'll need it back, of course, but I think today you could use it more than I can.'

He glanced at Rose for direction to see her struggling to suppress a smile. He turned back to Chandra, finding her bright, eager eyes watching him closely. 'Oh… I… gosh, Chandra, thank you. It's great.'

And before he knew it, Chandra had thrown his arms around him to pull him into a tight hug. 'Oh, you'll be brilliant, Al!'

'I… thanks.'

She unlaced her arms from around him, but not before standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. 'Good luck, Al.'

His head spinning and his stomach reeling, he gave a numb nod as Chandra pulled away from him.

'Off you go, Al,' said Rose, and she gave him another nudge towards the pitch. 'Come on, Chandra.'

Albus watched them start off towards the grandstands to join the watching crowd. His cheek burning where Chandra's lips had touched it, he stuffed the orange stone into the pocket of his trousers and started out across the pitch to meet James.

He could feel eyes burning into him as he crossed the wide pitch, knowing all spectators in the grandstand would be watching the last straggler hurry out onto the pitch to join the group, and when he was halfway across the ground he heard Louis give a call of, 'Al, is that you?'

All heads in the centre of the pitch swivelled towards him. The two dozen prospective teammates, now arranged into their year-level, were craning their necks as he drew nearer and he fought back the temptation to turn and bolt.

As awful as it was to know his house-mates were watching him, sizing him up as what they undoubtedly saw as measly competition, it was nothing compared to the look James was fixing him with; a kind of twisted grimace, lost between confusion and amusement and embarrassment.

'Sorry,' he said when he reached the crowd, sliding into line with Emory Vane and Atticus MacDonald. 'Overslept.'

James seemed unable to answer, still staring at his brother as if he was some gruesome-looking beast he had found living beneath his bed. It was Finlay who instead chose to break the silence.

'Don't worry about it, Al,' said the beater brightly. 'What position are you trying for?'

'Seeker.'

Albus heard a few of the younger students give excited whispers. James's lip seemed to give an unconscious spasm.

'Alright, then, how about everyone on their brooms,' Finlay pressed on. 'Start with two laps of the pitch, right, James?'

* * *

'Is it just me,' said Louis, 'or is Albus not that bad?'

'He's surprisingly decent, yes,' said Xan thoughtfully, gazing up at the figures zooming above them. 'Since when has he been flying, James?'

James did not reply. He was watching the game above intently. The quasi-teams were composed of two seekers and four chasers each and had been mandated by James in their third hour of try-outs in an attempt to weed out the weakest of the remaining hopefuls.

' _James?_ ' pressed Xan, giving his shoulder a light punch.

' _What?'_

'I'm talking to you, that's what. How long has be been flying?'

'How should I know?'

'Because you live with him, you prat.'

'Play nice, children,' said Louis serenely.

'They've been up there for nearly an hour,' said Kim Nguyen. 'Don't you think that's enough?'

'Not yet,' growled James.

'They've both scored in the hundreds and the snitch has been caught five times. What do you want them to do next? Make it onto the English national team?' said Finlay.

Scowling, James turned to his dorm-mate. 'Whose captain again?'

'Come off it, James,' sighed Xan. 'You're hoping Vane is going to manage to catch the snitch again so you don't have to put Al on the team.'

'He's been faltering,' grumbled James. 'He's been hit by the bludger twice already. If he can't stay on his broom he's no good no matter how fast he can catch the snitch.'

'He's been hit by the bludger twice and he's still playing,' Finlay reminded him.

'And anyway, in a real match he'll have Fin and I keeping the bludgers off him,' said Xan. 'So Al for seeker and what about the chaser?'

'I'd go for Adam Farouk,' said Kim Nguyen. 'He's quick and he's only a third year. Imagine what he'll be like in his seventh.'

'Farouk for chaser,' said James slowly, 'but I reckon we should get the seekers to do some obstacle work first-'

'You can do what you want, but I'm going back to the castle,' snapped Xan. 'Try-outs never took this long when Fred was captain.'

'Well, things change. Life goes on, doesn't it?' retorted James. 'I'm gonna get Al and Vane down and see how well they dodge some jinxes-'

'James, I know you're captain and all,' said Louis pleasantly, 'but you're being a right dick.'

'Sod off, Weasley.'

'Would it kill you to admit Albus is good at something?' demanded Xan.

'It's got nothing to do with that! I'm looking out for this team, unlike the rest of you apparently.'

'Fine, give it to Vane, then,' said Finlay, and Xan glared at him. 'But I noticed he's been struggling with his dives, so we better train him up for that. And the Ravenclaw beaters are good, so we're gonna have to make sure he doesn't keep pausing when he's looking for the snitch as he has been. He needs to be on the move while he's seeking, so you should probably organise extra lessons for him to drill that into him, yeah?'

Louis was grinning by the time Finlay finished, while James looked mutinous. Gazing up into the sky the captain strode forward without another glance at his teammates and raised his wand, sending a shower of read sparks into the air to signal the players to land. A moment later he was surrounded by the eight remaining prospective players, each of which was looking thoroughly warn-out and bursting with anticipation.

'Right. Farouk's chaser, Potter's seeker. The rest of you can go,' said James flatly.

There was a murmur of protests from amongst the rejected students who then proceeded to trudge away, leaving Adam Farouk behind beaming to himself, Albus looking utterly bewildered and Emory Vane dawdling behind, scowling at the elder Potter.

'You can't pick him just because he's your brother,' snarled Emory.

'No, but he can if he caught the snitch more than you did,' said Xan coolly, appearing at James's side.

'That's not fair! He only caught it the second time because a bludger got my wrist!'

'Well, perhaps you shouldn't let bludgers get your wrist,' suggested Louis innocently.

'This is bullshit,' snarled Emory, kicking at the grass in frustration. 'Fuck it, then.'

And he turned on his heel and stalked off back across the pitch towards the grandstand.

'Right, then,' said Finlay brightly, 'now we've got rid of him, when's practice?'

'Monday nights, Wednesday nights, Friday nights and Saturday mornings,' said James. He ignored the indignant groans of his team-mates and turned to Albus and Adam. 'And you two need better brooms – I'm not losing the cup because you think you can save money riding school ones. Farouk, you need to speed up – fix your posture of you're going to be holding yourself back. Potter, you need to work on your dodging. I lost count of how many times you got hit by the bludgers and that was without anyone hitting them at you.'

'But you both did brilliantly,' Xan assured them brightly. 'I had no idea you could fly like that, Al.'

Albus did not seem capable of summoning any words of gratitude, and instead sufficed to give his cousin a grimacing smile.

'But you need to be better,' James told them sharply. 'Five in the afternoon on Monday. Don't be late or you're gone. Merlin knows I've got enough candidates to choose from.'

'Right – brilliant – thanks!' trilled Adam, tucking his broom under his arm. 'I'll write to my dad right away – get him to send me his broom! Thanks, Potter!'

James said nothing as the new chaser bounded away to the grandstand where a group of eager third-years were waiting to receive him. Chortling amongst themselves, Finlay, Xan, Louis and Kim started back towards the castle.

'You coming or what?' James asked his brother.

'Oh – yeah, I… yeah.'

They trudged across the pitch, a good distance between their shoulders, both silent as they walked. Albus could see Rose and Chandra waiting on the sidelines of the grounds, Chandra beaming brightly, and Albus's hand moved unconsciously to clutch the stone in his pocket.

'Since when do you like Quidditch?'

James's query roused him and he turned to glance at the older boy. He was not looking at him, but rather staring at his feet as they walked, looking haughty.

'Oh, I don't really… I mean, not watching it. I like flying though. At least I think I do.'

'You're alright,' said James, and it sounded as if it took an immense amount of effort for him to get the words out. 'You could be better, but you're alright.'

'I… thanks.'

'Right.'

'You – you don't mind do you?'

'Mind what?'

'That I'm on the team.'

James continued to avoid his eye, and it was several seconds before he replied. 'No, I don't mind,' he said slowly. 'But just so you know, if you let Malfoy catch the snitch before you I'm going to have to kill you.'

* * *

 **Song Credit: _Trying Your Luck_ by the Strokes.**

 **A/N: Lol it's been so long. I still want to write this so badly. It's just taking me so much longer than anticipated and for that I apologise.**

 **But hey, this chapter is a rarity because it includes that elusive mistress _plot progression_.**

 **Again, I am so, so sorry about the frankly embarrassing wait. This story is not on hiatus. I am just a painfully slow and lazy writer. But thank you none the less for reading!**

 **PS: As always, I've been doing my writing in the early hours of the morning so I apologise for the inevitable typos I've overlooked in my half-hearted editing.**


	7. A Whiter Shade of Pale

_09/09/2017_

* * *

 ** _A Whiter Shade of Pale  
_** _She said there is no reason  
And the truth is plain to see  
But I wandered through my playing cards  
And would not let her be  
One of sixteen vestal virgins  
Who were leaving for the coast  
And although my eyes were open  
They may just as well have been closed_

* * *

As grey skies swooped upon them and the courtyard lay under a carpet dead leaves rotting away in the Autumn rains, he once again found himself in the grips of the phenomenon that occurred every school semester, the odd blur of weeks and the indistinguishable days as the semester wore on and assessments piled upon them.

Rose's sixteenth birthday passed without much fanfare in early October, as did his own three weeks later. Chandra informed Rose and Albus in a delighted trill that she and Davies were now 'official'. James reduced a variety of girls to tears and Lily pretended not to be familiar with her brothers whenever they passed her in the passageways.

This year was unique, however, as his idleness was punctuated no only be the frequent, unpleasant reminders of his impending OWLs but also of the death-defying training schedule James had forced upon the Gyffindor Quidditch team, which Albus was sure was doing more to sap his strength rather than build it.

'I can't,' he wheezed, collapsing onto the rain-sodden pitch one dreary Sunday in late October. 'I can't – I'm done – Vane can play in my part – '

'He can not and he will not!' James bellowed, swooping over him. 'Albus, I swear to god, get back on your broom or you're not going to be seeing Christmas-'

'For fuck's sake, James, give it a bloody rest,' snarled Xan, coming to a heavy landing beside Albus, her mess of black ringlets matted against her neck by the wind and rain. 'We've been out here for three hours – my legs are killing me. Of course Albus is over it. Everyone else is up at the castle having dinner and we're stuck here with _you_.'

James's eyes swelled in scandalised fury. He drew in a heavy breath before letting out a deafening bellow of, 'DO YOU WANT TO LOSE TO RAVENCLAW-'

'DO YOU WANT TO HAVE YOUR WHOLE TEAM QUIT THE WEEK BEFORE YOUR FIRST MATCH AS CAPTAIN?' countered Xan furiously, throwing her broom down into the mud in protest. 'Because I swear to Merlin, James, I'll do it! Don't think I won't – it would be worth it just to see the look on your stupid face!'

'Oh, please quit, Xan,' said Finlay wistfully, hovering a few metres over them. 'Please do it. I want to see James cry. Please.'

'Ooh, are we quitting?' said Louis eagerly, landing beside Xan with the quaffle under his arm. 'How fun! Adam, Kim, do you two want to quit too?'

'Oh, yes, please,' said Kim tiredly as she brought herself down to the ground. 'That or I want some kidney pie. I'm not sure which.'

'Oh, I'd murder a kidney pie,' sighed Louis. 'Wouldn't you, Adam?'

'Positively brutalise it, yeah.'

'Right, well, that's settled,' said Louis pleasantly. 'Let's get ourselves all cleaned up and looking gorgeous and we'll go eat. James, we'll be handing you our resignation letters later.'

'Don't you dare, Weasley,' snarled James.

'Oh, I dare, Potter,' said Louis, still faultlessly civil.

'Ravenclaw has won the last two cups and I'm not about to let them get on top of the ladder first thing in the year!'

'Well, if we all die of hunger you're not going to have much hope of winning the cup regardless,' growled Xan, and with that she closed her hand around Albus's arm and pulled him up. 'Come on, you lot.'

Albus allowed Xan to steer him back towards the change-rooms, leaving James on the pitch to remount his broom as proceed to shoot the quaffle through the hoops with furious vigour. Once out of earshot of the captain, Xan launched into a brutal assault on James's stringent training routine.

'He's insane,' said Xan furiously. 'Absolutely insane.'

'Lily did tell me he was a bit – er – passionate,' said Adam thoughtfully. 'But if I had known we'd be down here four days I week I'm not sure I would have bothered trying out.'

'Well, the only way we can shut him up is to show him that we can manage to beat Ravenclaw,' said Kim reasonably.

'Good point,' said Finlay as they reached the change rooms. 'Al, if you wanna catch the snitch within the first minute then be my guest.'

They strode into the change rooms and set about gathering up their change of clothes and clean towels, tearing off their soaked and muddy Quidditch robes to get ready to shower.

'Ooh, what's this?' said Louis, plunging a hand into his satchel as he rooted around for a clean shirt. 'Oh, dear, who put this in here?'

Albus turned to see the blond unearth a gleaming, golden bottle of fire-whiskey from the depths of his satchel, wearing a mock look of horror as he held it up for his teammate's inspection.

'Very poor form,' said Louis, unscrewing the lid and taking a sniff. 'Sneaking fire-whiskey into the school? Disgraceful.'

He took a long swig of the firewhiskey before passing the bottle to Finlay, who gazed down at the amber liquid in awe. 'Louis, I love you.'

'Well, you're only human. Pass it around. Farouk, you can have some but I'm counting your sips.'

Adam offered his thanks, waiting eagerly for the bottle to reach him as it was passed round the room.

'Here you go, Al,' said Kim after she had taken a deep drink.

'Er – I… You know, I just remembered. I was supposed to meet Rose and Chandra for a study group.'

'Study group on a Sunday night?' said Xan, sounding horrified. 'Don't do it, Al. Save yourself. Stay here and get drunk with us.'

Albus feigned laughter, gathering up his broom and satchel as he backed off towards the door. 'Thanks but I – no thanks.'

And he turned on his heel and strode out into the pouring rain. Everything was sore: the aching muscles in his arms and legs, the burn in his torso that Finlay assured him as the start of a washboard abdomen, the hunger pains stabbing at his stomach. He wanted to eat and he wanted to sleep and he wanted to shower and he never wanted to mount a broom again, but in his exhaustion he couldn't begin to decide which of these wants he was most eager to attend to.

The dilemma was settled for him when he strode into the entrance hall, water dripping from his fringe, and was hit with the aroma of the Great Hall where dinner had not yet finished. His stomach gave a groan of longing and he hurried in, hardly even caring how abysmal he looked in his drenched and dirty Quidditch robes.

The Gryffindor table was nearly empty and Chandra and Rose were nowhere to be found, surely having eaten earlier with the rest of the school, but he was hardly bothered by his solitude. He ate twice his usual fill at twice his usual pace. It was as if he had forgotten how good food could be. He was feeling considerably less glum as he started into his second helping of baked potatoes when his spirits were suddenly dampened by the appearance of Emory Vane at the seat opposite him.

'Right, Potter?'

'Hi, Emory.'

'You had practice?'

'Yeah.'

'Heard your brother's a bit of a slave driver,' said Emory carelessly. 'Pretty glad I didn't make the team. I didn't even really want to, to be honest. I wasn't really trying anyway. Seeker's a pretty nothing position, don't you think? I mean it's just looking about. It doesn't take much skill, does it?'

Albus forced a shrug and picked at his food. 'No, I suppose not.'

'Yeah, I think next year when there's an opening for a beater I'll definitely try out _properly_ ,' continued Emory. 'Takes a lot more skill, beating – a lot more practice. Oh, by the way, I wanted to ask you – you used to go out with Cassandra Kettleburn, didn't you?'

Albus gagged on his potato and swallowed heavily, taking several seconds to recover from his burnt throat while Emory snickered. Recovering with a large sip of pumpkin juice, Albus replied wearily, 'For a little while, yeah.'

'Oh, yeah? What's she like? I mean, she looks up for it, but I just wanted to check.'

Albus said nothing and took another sip of pumpkin juice to excuse himself from answering.

'Only I'm going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend, so I thought I'd wanna have some idea what I'm gonna get out of it beforehand, you know?'

Albus was silent. This was what Emory had been building to, he knew. This was why the boy had apparently been dawdling in the Great Hall past their usual supper time: he was ensuring he would be able to gloat while Rose and any other of Albus's would-be defenders, few as they were, were absent.

'So, what do you think?' continued Emory, grinning at Albus from across the table, relishing in the smaller boy's discomfort. 'Do you think I'll get much out of her?'

Albus swallowed heavily. He needed to save face. If there was anything he could do to rile Emory, it would be denying him the satisfaction of knowing he had managed to ruffle Albus.

'Don't know,' he forced himself to say. 'We weren't together very long.'

'Ah, I get it,' said Emory. 'Keeping herself chaste, is she? Well, whatever, I'll give it a go. See you, Potter.'

And the burly boy hauled himself to his feet, swaggering out of the Great Hall. Albus watched him go, blood rushing in his ears in his fury. He turned back to his plate, no longer feeling remotely hungry. Pushing the plate away he got to his feet, fighting to keep his eyes off the Hufflepuff table.

He could see Cassie in the corner of her eye as he trudged towards the door, blonde ponytail gleaming beneath the torchlight.

It wasn't fair – it just _wasn't fair._

He turned on his heel, propelled by his agitation, and redirected himself towards the Hufflepuff table. He needed to know – needed to be sure that this wasn't some lie Emory had concocted to torture him. What did Cassie Kettleburn want with Emory Vane anyway?'

'Cassie?'

She gave a little start as he reached her, spinning in her seat to face him. She was silent, as were her friends, gazing up at him in bewilderment. They had not exchanged words since the first week of August when she had told him it wasn't working on the steps out front of the ice-cream parlour in Godric's Hollow. She looked much the same as she had that day; bright-eyed, angelic, gleaming, freckles dotted across her nose.

'Oh, hi, Al.'

'Hi. Can we – er – can we talk?'

The shadow of a frown passed over her face. 'Sure.'

'You know, in… private?'

Her brow gave a definite crease, but when she spoke her voice was as bright as ever. 'You can talk to me around my friends, Al. I don't mind.'

'Er… okay. Well, I was just – going to ask. Going to check really. Only I'd heard – well, I'd been told that – that you're going to Hogsmeade with Emory Vane.'

And there it was – a scowl. He never would have imagined Cassie looking anything close to dangerous. 'Yeah, I am,' she told him, head held high.

'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Right… well… okay.'

'Is that all you had to say to me?'

'Yes. Well, no. I… I just wanted to tell you that…'

 _What? What in the hell did he want to tell her?_

'That I think you two make a – a great couple.'

Her scowl vanished. Her friends were staring at him, looking on the verge of laughter, but Cassie looked nothing more than astounded.

'Oh,' she said slowly, blinking up at him. 'Oh, I – thanks, Al.'

'Don't mention it.'

And with that he turned away, fighting not to break into a run as he strode from the Great Hall, ignoring the eyes of Cassie's friends that he could feel burning into his back. His heart was pounding and his ears were ringing. How was he so stupid? How was so utterly hopeless?

He hurried up the Gryffindor tower as quickly as he could, skirting around dawdlers in the corridors and ignoring a bellowed invitation from Hugo to join his friends and him dropping dung bombs on a group of unsuspecting Slytherins. He needed to be alone – he needed to be somewhere where nobody had to look at him or speak to him – he needed to pray to the heavens that his dormitory was deserted.

Cassie and Emory. Emory and Cassie. Cassandra Kettleburn and Emory Vane. The sweetest girl he had ever met with the biggest prat in the school. He couldn't stomach it – he _wouldn't_ stomach it. Tomorrow he would go to Cassie and tell her what he had intended to tell her when he had approached the Hufflepuff table: _Vane is an arse and you deserve better._

He rounded the corner to the portrait hole, his head swimming with the first time he had kissed Cassie beneath the ewe tree in her back garden, and hurried over to the Fat Lady to give her the password, but he didn't have the chance before a sharp voice called him to a halt.

'Where's your cousin?'

He swivelled around. Leaning against the wall opposite the Fat Lady was Mei Zhao, wearing her usual scowl.

'Oh, hi. Er – which cousin?'

'Rose Weasley. She was supposed to meet me at the prefect's office fifteen minutes ago. It's our patrol night and we're _late_.'

Realising he didn't much care where Rose was, he replied, 'I don't know. I've been at practice.'

She raised her eyebrows, her eyes scouring his mud-soaked robes. 'You made the team? Well done.'

'I – oh.' He hadn't been expecting that, and yet it bolstered his spirits somewhat. 'Thanks.'

'If you see your cousin inside can you tell her I'm waiting for her, please.'

'Right – will do.'

He turned back to the Fat Lady to give the password when suddenly he was struck by some mad hopefulness and he turned back to Mei. 'Are you going to be in Hogsmeade next weekend?'

'What?'

'Hogsmeade – the first visit is next weekend. On Halloween. Are you…' And suddenly he realised what he was saying as he stomach did a somersault. 'I… er… I was wondering… maybe if you don't already have plans…'

Mei's eyes swelled. 'Are you asking me to go Hogsmeade with you?'

'No, I just meant – if you were there – and I was there – then maybe… Actually, yeah. Yeah, I am. Do you want to go with me?'

Mei scoured him with her dark, suspicious eyes, her lips pursed tightly, before she told him coolly, 'We don't really know each other.'

'I know we don't. I just thought maybe… maybe it would be good if we did.'

'Oh,' she said with a frown. 'Yes, I suppose it would be good.'

'So – so do you want to go?'

'Well, I was planning to stay at the castle to use the library while nobody else was around,' said Mei severely. 'But I suppose I could do that on Sunday.'

'So – so is that a yes?'

'Yes, I suppose. But I can't stay there too long.'

'No – no, right. Okay, that's – that's _great_. Well, I – I guess I'll see you next weekend.'

'I guess so, yes.'

'Okay. Okay, bye, Mei.' He took a step towards the Fat Lady's portrait and gave her the password, very careful not to trip over his words as he did so.

'And Albus?' said Mei as he scrambled through the portrait hole.

He turned back to her. With her pale skin gleaming under the torchlight and her long, black hair trailing over her shoulder, she looked very pretty. 'Yes?'

'Tell your cousin I'm waiting for her, won't you?'

'Right. Yeah. Course. See you.'

* * *

'You're crazy,' said Rose. 'You do know that, don't you?'

'Yeah, I suppose so.'

'And she's positively _insane_.'

'She seems alright to me.'

'That's because you've never spent more than five minutes with her.'

'She seems cool.'

' _Cool?_ ' said Rose, sounding disgusted. 'She's the farthest thing from _cool_ you could ever come across. As are you, for that matter.'

Sighing, Albus pulled the jumper he had been searching for from his trunk. 'Perhaps we'll make a good couple then.'

'Oh, god, Al, not _that_ jumper again.'

Pulling on the Chudley Cannons sweater, he gave her a scowl. 'Did you come up here just to be a prat? Don't you have anywhere else to be?'

'Chandra and Davies snuck off after breakfast,' said Rose bitterly, 'and seeming you're not going to be free today Xan wants me to go along with her friends, but she's still not up yet.'

Albus turned to the mirror to run a hand over his fringe, attempting to flatten it. 'Do I look alright?'

'Zhao's not going to care how you look as long as you hold still while she devours your body post-coitus.'

Albus rounded on her. 'Can you leave her alone?'

'What? Is it bothering you?'

'Yes, it is,' he snapped. 'What if it turns out I really like her? What if she becomes like – like my girlfriend?'

'Rose let out a snort of laughter. 'You look fine. Can we go now?'

Scowling, Albus snatched up his wand from his bedside table and Rose sprung up from his four-poster, striding towards the dormitory's door with Albus in her wake. They found Xan in the common room beside the fireplace with a number of friends and together the group traipsed out of the common room, the seventh-years talking eagerly amongst themselves while Rose and Albus hung at the back, feeling and looking thoroughly out of place.

Mei Zhao was waiting at the bottom of the marble staircase and when she saw him she gave him a smile. He caught himself from stumbling on the stairs. Rose rolled her eyes.

'Morning,' he croaked when he reached her.

'Good morning,' replied Mei, not sparing a glance at Rose. 'Nice jumper. You follow the Cannons?'

'Kind of.'

'Well, shall we head off then? I don't want to be back at the castle too late.'

'Sure.'

Mei led the way out of the entrance hall, leaving Rose staring after them with a scowl.

* * *

Xan's cohorts were exactly the kind of people one expected to be friends with Xan. The girls were bright, pretty, funny and well dressed. The boys were just the same, churned in with a chivalry that Rose considered rather obnoxious. Linus Stebbins held the door of the Three Broomsticks open for them and Julian Jiang took it upon himself to fund the first round of ale, but not before asking Rose if she was old enough to drink.

'Course she is,' said Xan impatiently. 'She's sixteen. Don't patronise her.'

'Some people have better morals than you, Xan,' said Julian.

He caught Rose's eye and gave her a wink as he went to the bar. Rose knew it was intended as an offer of friendship; a show of solidarity between the two to make her feel welcome in the group, but Rose wasn't too interested. This particular trip to Hogsmeade was made more bearable than others she had taken with Xan's friends by the presence of Finlay, of whom she had always admired for his ability to spend the majority of his life with James without committing homicide.

Finlay's presence did bring into question, Rose thought as she accepted the pint of ale from Julian, James's whereabouts. His three dorm-mates being present at the Three Broomsticks left her to assume had taken himself off somewhere. Deciding it better not to dwell on, Rose took a sip of her ale and turned her attention to the card game Linus Stebbins had initiated.

'You know how to play, Rose?'

She shook her head.

'Right, well, it's super easy. I'll give you a card and then you have to guess if the next one in the deck is higher or lower. If you guess right I have to drink, but if you get it right then _you_ drink. Got it?'

'It's not a hard concept. Hurry up, Stebbins,' said Xan. 'I'm the oldest. My turn first.'

'Be my guest,' said Linus, turning over the card on top of the deck to reveal the number three.

'Higher,' said Xan, and Linus flipped the next card to reveal a ten. 'Hah! Right, off you go, start drinking. Ten seconds, please.'

The first pints disappeared fairly quickly and Julian Jiang returned to the bar for seconds, and then thirds, and the fourths. Rose liked ale, she decided. It made her laugh. It was much easier to enjoy the company of Xan and Finlay's friends once she was on her fourth pint.

'Slow down, Rosie,' said Finlay. 'What would Mummy and Daddy say?'

'To stop drinking, I suppose.'

'Oh, I love your mum, Rose,' said Tessa Mishra. 'I was reading the _Prophet_ the other day. She's brilliant, isn't she? She's always so calm in press conferences, even when the reporters are all over pushing this blood-purity nonsense.'

'But is it nonsense?' asked Corrina Peakes. 'I mean, they still haven't worked out what happened to Gamp. Or if they have they're not reporting it.'

'Yeah, what's going on with that, Rose?' asked Linus. 'Has your mum said anything about it?'

'Not to me,' said Rose.

'Okay, enough of this,' said Xan. 'Back to drinking. I'll shuffle the deck.'

'Why can't we talk about?' said Linus defensively, his annoyance apparently propelled by the ale he had been drinking. 'It's important, Xan. If Rose wants to tell us about she should be able to.'

'But you don't want to tell them anything, do you, Rose?' insisted Xan.

'I don't know anything about it,' said Rose truthfully.

'Rubbish,' said Linus. 'James says the same thing. His dad's Harry Potter and we're supposed to believe James isn't going to know anything about what happens in the Ministry?'

'Harry doesn't send each of us out memos with updates on murder investigations,' retorted Xan.

'Well, of course you _have to say that_. But I think we have the right to know what's going on. If the Ministry starts lying to the people again it'll be just the same as it was in the nineties, won't it? If Shacklebolt wants to pretend his administration really has everyone's best interest at heart-'

Rose got to her feet and the eyes around the table snapped to her.

'Where you going, Rosie?' said Finlay.

'Post office,' lied Rose. 'I need new parchment.'

And she turned away and hurried to the door, feeling uneven on her feet as she pushed through the crowd of students who had trudged into the pub to escape the drizzle outside.

She ought to have expected it – ought to have known better. The topic of her parents was never far over, ready to be sprung upon her when anyone thought they were civil enough with her to afford to bring it up.

That, she thought as she stepped out onto the street, the October chill clearing her head somewhat, was why she had been drawn to Chandra rather than any of the other girls in her dorm. Chandra didn't pry; Chandra didn't feign anything; Chandra was Chandra, kind and honest and a far better person than she was, and that was surely why Chandra was up at the castle at that moment in the arms of a boy why she herself was trudging through the streets of Hogsmeade alone.

Watching her boots stick in the mud as she walked, her mind on Chandra and Albus and wondering reluctantly how their dates were going, her pondering was brought to a halt when the door in-front of her was thrown open.

She glanced up. She had wondered down one of the streets she didn't often venture to, the only attraction being a small bar at which the drinks were far too overpriced for the average Hogwarts student. It was this bar that she had stopped outside of, and it was Scorpius Malfoy who had thrown the door unceremoniously open.

He did not see her, for as soon as he was out on the street he broke into a march away from the centre of the town, down the winding road that led to the forest in which Hogsmeade was nestled. A second passed in which she watched him stride away before the door was thrown open again and this time Zaina Faheem stepped out, followed by Louisa Edgecombe. Rose let herself fall into the doorway of the next door so as to duck from the view.

'Where'd he go?' asked Zaina furiously. 'Where did he say he was going?'

'I told you, Zaina, he didn't say anything – he said he was going to see if you needed a hand at the bar and then he walked out the door.'

'He must have said _something_ , Louisa.'

'Honestly, Zaina, he didn't!'

'Well, where's he gone then? He wouldn't just get up and leave.'

'Perhaps he wants some time alone. It must be hard – what with his dad and all.'

'He loathes his dad,' Zaina told her impatiently.

'Well, perhaps he's going for a walk. Come on, let's go back inside – it's freezing.'

Zaina hesitated before giving her consent and following Louisa back into the bar. Rose turned her attention back down the street; she could see Malfoy ahead in the distance, hurrying on. If he had truly wanted to be alone to dwell on his father's publicity as Louisa had suggested, would he really choose to do so in the freezing outskirts of Hogsmeade rather than in the warmth of his dormitory that would surely be deserted?

 _Don't bother with it,_ she told herself. _It's not worth your bother._

But hadn't she been heading that way anyway, and where else was she supposed to go? Re-joining Xan's friends in the Three Broomsticks was anything but appealing

Balling her hands into the sleeves of her sweater to ward off the cold, she started down the street, trudging along after Scorpius Malfoy.

* * *

Mei Zhao wasn't nearly as coarse as she appeared, he thought as they strode through the town. In the watery Autumn light, donned in her yellow rain-jacket and her hair hanging in two longs braids, she looking nothing but lovely. Gentle, almost. Walking beside him, she had abandoned that sharp, direct march she seemed to favour in her role of prefect and the scowl he had become accustomed to was absent. He wasn't sure how to approach her, not when most of their previous interactions had centres around the misdeeds of his family, and so told himself to keep quiet. If she wanted to talk to him she surely would.

And yet, he asked himself as they strode through the Hogsmeade square, what if she was thinking just the same as him? What if her heart was pounding just as his was, anticipating humiliation with every slight movement she made?

It seemed unlikely but, he conceded, it wasn't entirely impossible.

'So – er – where do you want to go?' he forced himself to ask.

She didn't meet his eye when she said, 'I don't mind. You choose.'

'I don't mind either, so you can choose.'

And all at once he saw the haughtiness return to her with the furrowing her brows. 'I said I don't mind. Just choose somewhere.'

'Oh… er. Right, well… I – I suppose we could go to Madam Puddifoot's?'

He immediately regretted the suggestion. It was where he had taken Cassie on their first date. She had found it charming – gushed at _how sweet_ the teashop was. Mei, it seemed, didn't have the fondness for sweetness that Cassie had.

'If you want,' said Mei.

'Well, we don't have to –'

'No, we'll go.'

And she gestured for him to follow her down the street. Madam Puddifoot's was much the same as it had been the only other time he had set foot inside. They bustled inside, finding the place dominated largely by couples, most of who seemed to be on their first date. He had wondered vaguely if he might find Chandra there with Davies, but they had apparently been seeing each long enough to have abandoned the pretence of dates. Scowling, he followed Mei as she strode to a table at the back of the teashop, paying no mind to the number of glances they were attracting from other students.

They took their seats, ordered their tea and waited for the drinks to arrive. They thanked the waitress when she brought over the pot and Albus poured them both a cup.

'Milk?' he asked Mei, raising the jug.

'No, thanks.'

He offered her the sugar bowl. 'Sugar?'

'Thanks.'

He scooped up a teaspoon and reached for her cup. She pulled out of his reach and he tipped the sugar onto the tablecloth.

'I can stir in my own sugar,' she informed him.

'Oh. Right. Sorry.'

She promptly brushed away the spilt sugar and took the bowl from him. He watched as she stirred half a teaspoon of sugar into her tea, a frown on her face as if the process required much concentration. She sipped her tea and he mirrored her and then there was silence. He took another gulp, wracking his brains for something to say, and she continued frowning into her cup. Had the sugar incident really caused her such upset?

'Good tea,' he told her after several minutes silence.

'Yeah.'

'I like tea.'

'Yes, it's good.'

'Earl grey's my favourite,' he told her matter-of-factly. 'But I like English breakfast too, and Irish breakfast. And Darjeeling can be nice if it's done right.'

'Done right?'

He blushed. 'You know… brewed properly. Some people don't brew it properly.'

'Oh.'

'My mum doesn't let me make cups of tea.'

She frowned at him. 'Why not?'

'She says I don't do it properly. None of us do, apparently.'

'How can you make an improper cup of tea?'

'I don't know, but she's right. I never make it strong enough, or sometimes I try to compensate by putting in too many leaves and then it's too strong, so I add more water but then it's too weak, so I don't put in as much water and then there's not enough for all of us, and I always put it in too much milk and it goes cold.'

'Sounds heinous,' she told him, and he got the feeling she was being sarcastic.

 _Tea. You're talking to her about tea. What is wrong with you?_

'Yeah,' he mumbled. 'So… er… what classes are you taking?'

Mei set down her cup and railed off the answer breathlessly as though the topic of classes was the real reason for their conference. 'Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Defense, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Charms and Potions.'

'Wow,' he said. 'That's a lot for sixth year, isn't it? Your schedule must be full.'

'I'm going to work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' she told him, as if he should have guessed as much.

'Oh. Cool.'

'And what classes are you taking?'

'Er… well, the regular ones, as well as Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes.'

'And what do you plan to continue with after your OWLs?'

'Er…' He hesitated; he generally avoided thinking about that question, as the answer presumed he would have managed to pass his OWLs, which he wasn't so comfortable in counting upon. 'I'm not sure. I might drop Charms and Defence.'

' _Charms and Defence?'_ said Mei, sounding horrified. 'You can't give up Charms and Defence. They're important.'

'Well, I – I don't like Charms,' said Albus. 'And Defence – I'm just not too good at Defence.'

'Well, why don't you try harder?'

'Er… yeah, maybe. I suppose I should.'

'I'd give up Care of Magical Creatures if I were you,' said Mei curtly. 'I never got much out of that class. Especially not while Professor Hagrid continues to be allowed to teach it.'

'Right,' said Albus uncomfortably. 'So… uh… where is it that you live, anyway?'

'Aberdeen.'

He gave her a quizzical look. 'You're not Scottish though.'

He immediately regretted this observation at the withering look she gave him; had that sounded impolite? He reddened and searched for words of amends.

'I mean… You don't… Just your accent, I – you sound like you're from the south coast.'

She pursed her lips and sipped her tea before telling him, 'I grew up in Dorset.'

'Oh. Dorset's nice.'

'It's okay. I prefer Aberdeen. We moved up there when my mum got remarried.'

'Your parents are – are separated?'

She paused before answering, and his stomach gave another uneasy jolt; was that, once again, impolite to ask? However, when she answered there was no curtness in her voice, and she informed him calmly, 'No. My dad died when I was ten.'

His stomach gave its most unpleasant turn yet again. He immediately made to stammer out an apology, his tongue tripping over the words, feeling his face flushing red. 'Oh, I – I'm sorry. I didn't know – no one told me – Mei, I'm sorry-'

To his astonishment, a smile crept across her pale face. 'Why are you sorry? It's not your fault.'

'I… I don't know. That's what people say, isn't it?'

'Yes, I don't know why though,' she reasoned. 'You live in Godric's Hollow.'

'Er, yeah…' said Albus, recovering from his embarrassment. 'How did you know that?'

'Everyone knows that,' said Mei impatiently. 'The Ministry gave your father Hecate Hall as a thank you for his services to the nation.'

'Yeah, something like that.'

'It's controversial, really,' said Mei thoughtfully. 'I mean Hecate Hall was quite a landmark. Built for Godric Gryffindor's family to reside in. I think it would have been best if it stayed in the Ministry's position, personally, rather than having it altered to accommodate your family.'

Albus was not sure how he was supposed to respond to this, but was none the less pleased to have moved away from the topic of her father. 'Yeah… I guess. I suppose Dad wanted to live where he was born and to, you know… be close to his parents.'

'My dad's buried in Dorset,' said Mei. 'In a Muggle cemetery in Weymouth. I don't need to live near there just because of that.'

'Right… er… I suppose I wouldn't know.'

'I suppose it's different for your dad,' reasoned Mei. 'He never knew them. I can still feel close to my dad without needing to visit his grave all the time.'

Albus was silent for a moment. He had a strange longing to give her an offering; to serve up something macabre in an act of solidarity. 'My brother and sister and me used to visit the graves with him. We'd walk into town after breakfast on weekends to visit the graves.'

'That doesn't sound pleasant,' said Mei.

'Er… no. It wasn't, really. I used to go just to keep Dad company, but after I started at school he doesn't ask me to come. He just goes alone.'

'Does he talk to them?'

'Um, I… I don't think so.'

'I talk to my dad.'

'Do you?'

'Sometimes. I tell him what I did that day before I go to sleep.'

'Oh, that's… that's nice.'

'I wouldn't call it nice. It's just what I do.'

'Right, I – sorry.'

'You don't have to keep saying sorry. It was years ago. I'm used to talking about it.' She reached across the table for the teapot to touch up their cups with the last dregs. She moved with a sort of punctuality, thought Albus as he watched her finish her tea; a sense of direction or purpose that he was unfamiliar with.

'Have you finished?' she asked him.

'Sorry?'

'Your tea. Are you finished?'

'Oh, right. Yeah, sure.'

'Care to go for a walk?'

She didn't wait for him to answer but merely got to her feet, pulling a few sickles from her pocket to pay for her tea.

'No, wait – I'll pay.'

She glanced up at him, eyes sharp. 'I can pay for my own tea.'

'Right – sorry.'

'Stop saying sorry,' she told him, and she tightened her scarf around her neck and led him towards the door.

* * *

Drinking was decent, she thought as she trudged down the sodden street, but sobering up was not. She had lost Scorpius Malfoy almost as soon as she had endeavoured to follow him. She had watched him disappear into the narrow lane at the end of the street and, keeping her distance, had followed.

The lane was long and winding and as she trudged through the puddles she found the ankles of her stockings growing damp. Brick fences of backyards and the rears of terraced shops backed onto the lane, looking thoroughly unfamiliar, and when she found herself reaching the mouth of the lane she saw that it opened up onto a wide courtyard.

The ale heavy in her head, it took her a moment to get her bearings; Hogsmeade's north square, smaller and far less fashionable than the main square that the students visited. The cobbled courtyard was home to a number of magical businesses that were all but appealing to those venturing down for weekends from the castle; the old apothecary, a failing tailors selling robes only fashionable fifty years earlier, the ugly, old sandstone hall that had stood empty until its recent transformation into the House of Magical Ancestry and Artefacts which her mother had so lamented.

Rose scanned the faces of the rain-socked Hogsmeade residents hobbling through the dreary square. Scorpius Malfoy was conspicuously absent. Had he hurried away before she had even made it into the square?

Scowling, she started across the courtyard to the main road that would lead her back to the Three Broomsticks. She had wasted a good half hour on the expedition. It was Albus's fault really; he had planted the doubt in her head, made her question Malfoy's motives.

What has she expected? To find him in the midst of some anarchistic scheme? Her mind wandered back to the History of Magic class several weeks earlier when Malfoy had defied Zaina and had announced for everyone his qualms with the Ministry. It meant nothing, she assured herself. Even in her limited knowledge of his character she could deduce how smarmy and antagonistic he was; he had denounced the Ministry for no other reason than to irk Zaina.

If she hurried back to the pub now perhaps she would make it in time to coax Xan into buying her another pint before they would need to return to the school. She may even have time to order something to eat, as the ale had left her stomach feeling hollow and the Halloween feast wouldn't begin for hours. Perhaps a bowl of mash or some stew or-

A howl reached her from across the courtyard – like that of a fierce wind or a raging flame – and before she could even spin on her heel she heard of chorus of screams echo around her. She wheeled around to face the square, feeling the air electric with panic as villages pushed past her in a run.

The square was cast in a glowing purple glow from the fire that had erupted across the courtyard. Rubble was strewn across the courtyard; the façade of the House of Magical Ancestry and Artefacts had been blown apart, villagers caught in the blast crumpled on the ground, purple flame consuming the exposed interior of the old sandstone building.

* * *

When she was eight years old she had broken her brother's nose. It had sounded like the snapping of a twig against the earth and felt like a burst of warmth in the pits of her stomach; brilliant, bursting anger and the clumsy magic that she couldn't control.

She had stared across her bedroom at him, the heavy droplets of blood splattering onto her carpet, the beat of silence before he began to cry, the stolen lemon drops that had started the row slipping through his fingers.

 _He has to be okay_ , she threatened, but of whom she was unsure. _Let him be okay._

'Dom?'

She glanced up. She hadn't noticed anyone approaching. The room was already flooded with movement, the other administration workers bustling around the office sending their memos, notifying the appropriate people and answering the more urgent inquiries. Disaster translated into a busy work day in the Auror Office.

Teddy was before her. She should have known he'd come, and perhaps somewhere within her she had been expecting it, but the longing in her chest to follow Harry to Hogsmeade had pushed all other wants from her head until then.

She wiped the tears from her face and made to stand. 'Teddy… I…'

'No, don't get up,' and he moved around the desk, placing a hand on her shoulder to lower her back into her chair. 'Everyone's saying there's been some kind of accident – something about Hogsmeade…'

She gazed up at him, his magenta fringe falling over his face, his dark eyes watching her unwaveringly, careful and gentle and she felt her last shreds of desire to hold onto dignity slip away as she began to sob.

'Dom…' he said, lowering himself down to place an arm around her. 'What's happened? Where's Harry?'

She gulped down air and steadied herself long enough to reply. 'He – he went to the village – to - to see what's going on. There's been some – some building's been cursed, and they can't get the flames out – and it's spreading – and it's a Hogsmeade weekend, Teddy.'

The look in Teddy's eye didn't change – that same ever-calm gaze, those dark, gentle eyes. 'Don't worry,' he told her without hesitation. 'Harry will sort it out. They'll get all the kids back to the school, and you'll be the first to know-'

'There are dozens of injured – they're being taken to St Mungo's. And – and they can't identify them – because of – of the burns…'

He pulled her into his chest as she began to sob again and she felt her hands clinging to him. 'It's alright,' he told her. 'It's okay – Lou's going to be okay.

She buried her face into his neck, the smell of his skin engulfing her…

'Pardon me, Dominique?'

She pulled away from him, quickly as she could, lunging back as if caught in the midst of some terrible act. She straightened up, spinning in her seat to face the man before her.

'Oh, Mr MacMillan…' She wiped her eyes hurriedly, fighting to steady her shaking voice. 'I didn't hear you come in – I'm sorry…'

'Never mind that, Dominique,' said MacMillan bracingly. 'I've come up to try to track down your time-sheets. We haven't gotten them yet.'

'Oh, the time-sheets, I… I must have forgotten…'

'Not to worry, Dominique, if you give them to be now I'll get them sorted. I can see you've got a lot on your plate.'

'Right… I… I haven't finished them, but I'll send them along as soon as I have.'

MacMillan goggled at her. 'You haven't finished them? Dominique, it's nearly four o'clock.'

'I know, I – I'm so sorry, Mr MacMillan – I've been… busy…'

'As we all have, Dominique,' said MacMillan impatiently. 'But you must understand, if we don't get the time-sheets then we can't organise the payroll, and if we can't organise the payroll then your office goes without its pay slips next week. Now I know this Hogsmeade business had thrown a spanner in the works for you lot, but the aurors will do their job as long as you do yours, don't you agree?'

Dominique was stumped into silence and once again she felt the tears rising in her throat. Beside her she felt Teddy straighten up, and Dominique watched as he moved wordlessly around the desk to come face-to-face with MacMillan, his face impassive.

MacMillan eyed Teddy suspiciously, looking thoroughly bemused by the young man sidling up towards him. 'Lupin, shouldn't you be downstairs – '

'Do you have kids, MacMillan?'

'Do I - ? Oh, yes, I do – '

'But they're not at Hogwarts yet, are they?'

'Lupin, I really don't have time – '

'I would have thought you'd have a little more respect,' Teddy told him, and Dominique did not miss the snarl in his voice. 'People are hurt, you know? The school's having a Hogsmeade weekend, you know?'

MacMillan stared at Teddy, startled, before he fumbled over his words. 'I – I don't know what you think – '

'We're up here hoping no-one in our family's been attacked and you should be feeling pretty bloody lucky you're not in the same position,' Teddy growled. 'So I suggest you leave her the hell alone and go back down to payroll where you're wanted, alright?'

MacMillan was silent, gasping at Teddy in bewilderment and it was several seconds before the man recovered himself. Straightening up, he sent a final sheepish look at Dominique, mumbled an apology and hurried out of the office.

'Prick,' Teddy muttered.

'Teddy, you didn't need to do that,' said Dominique shakily. 'He's right – I shouldn't be sitting here – I'm supposed to be working – you don't need to stay with me-'

Teddy returned to her side and caught her hand, guiding her to her feet. 'Come with me.'

'What – but – Teddy –'

'Downstairs,' he told her. 'I've got some firewhiskey in my desk. You need a drink.'

'No, Teddy, I shouldn't – oh!'

Dominique's gasp mingled with a dozen others from around the office as a gleaming burst of silver light rushed through the door, dancing through the crowded room to land before Dominique. The silver stag hovered before, brilliant and blinding, and Harry's voice echoed from it.

' _Louis safe at the school. Others still being accounted for. Nothing else known for now.'_

The patronus vanished like a wisp of smoke and Dominique gave a murmur of surprise before she fell back into her chair, Teddy keeping a heavy grasp on her.

'You hear that?' he said to her, his dark face alight in a grin. 'He's fine. I told you he'd be fine, didn't I?'

Dominique drew in a steadying breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She gazed up at Teddy before with a jolt of tearful laughter she threw her arms around him.

* * *

James had been a tearful child, apt at dissolving into tantrums whenever he began to suspect he would not be getting his way. This talent had matured as he had gotten older, abandoning the tears for bellowing anger, which soon lost its favour for the rolling of eyes and the muttered retorts that James discovered were most effective at irking his parents.

'It doesn't look like it's dying down.'

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen him cry. Surely not since he had begun school, and even then he was sure it was before that that James had acquired his dexterity in snideness.

'Sir, I think it would be sensible to evacuate the next street over. Get everyone out of the row houses there.'

He didn't know where James liked to frequent on Hogsmeade weekends (ought to he have known?) but was sure it would involve either drinking of Quidditch. There was nothing of that sort that would have brought James to this corner of the village.

'Sir, are you alright?'

He felt a hand close on his shoulder and rounded on the young auror before him. The girl's face was blackened with ash; he had sent his team into the neighbouring buildings to check for any residents when the fire had begun to spread. The cursed smoke from the blaze seemed intent on flooding into the doorways and windows of the surrounding buildings as if had been bred to do so.

'What did you say, Hopkins?'

'Evacuations,' said the witch called Hopkins. 'I think we should do the next street, too. The curse-breakers still aren't sure how to go about putting it out.'

Harry turned back to the burning building. It was almost unrecognisable; the roaring purple flames seemed to have some corrosive ability, the ancient sandstone building crumbling into itself. The flame had managed to spread to the neighbouring buildings, the wooden ones already devoured by the cursed fire.

The curse-breakers deployed by the department had given him nothing more than their best guess when they had arrived at the scene; fiendfyre, amplified by some other dark magic. Normal fiendfyre didn't have a fall out – normal fiendfyre didn't have the capacity to burn flesh twenty feet away from the flame.

'Do what you think is best,' Harry told the girl before him.

The auror looked taken aback at the level of credence Harry was allowing her assessment. Her sooty face made it hard to tell but she looked young, surely her first year out of training. 'Er – you mean the whole block, sir?'

'If you think so,' he replied. 'Take McCarthy and Saluja with you.'

'Thank you, sir.' She turned to go.

'Wait – Hopkins?'

She rounded back in an instant. 'Yes, sir?'

'Any word from the school? Anyone else turned up?'

He knew by the look in her eye that she pitied him, but he gave no sign of noticing.

'No, sir. I'm sorry.'

'Right. Off you go.'

'But the Head Mistress doesn't seem to be too worried,' Hopkins informed him. 'When we spoke to her she said the students never come down this way.'

'Off you go, Hopkins.'

* * *

'I told you, I've got no idea where he was going today.'

'He won't be in trouble, Mr Jordan,' Neville assured him evenly. 'We're only trying to cross everyone's name off the list.'

'Honestly, Professor, I'd tell you if I knew where he was.'

Neville surveyed the beater before him before giving a slow nod. 'Alright, thank you, Finlay.'

'Are you gonna tell us if he show's up?' asked Finlay, following Neville to the portrait hole. 'Is anyone out looking for him?'

'Of course. The auror office has offered up a dozen heads to lead the search for any stragglers in the village – Professor Hagrid and Professor Karim are accompanying them, and I'm on my way to join them now. That is why I really must go, Finlay.' Neville hesitated at the portrait hall and gave a nod towards the prefects who stood waiting beside him. 'Remember what I said: anyone returns to the common room, let one of the teachers know immediately so we can cross their name off.'

They gave their assent.

'Good on you. The house elves are preparing food to have sent up here. It shouldn't be too long,' said Neville and he climbed through the portrait hole, but not before assuring them, 'I'll keep you all updated.'

Once the Head of House had departed, eager conversation broke out across the crowded common room. The prefects, who had until then been grouped together, splintered off the re-join their friends.

Xan gave a sombre sigh and threw her arm around Rose. 'Guess this means there's no Halloween feast.'

Finlay at their side, they pushed their way through the common room. The room wasn't used to holding all of Gryffindor tower at once; the students were usually granted the lenience of mulling around the rest of the castle before curfew, but for the sake of counting numbers they had been restricted to their common rooms. Lily was surrounded by a group of third-year boys listening to them recite their death-defying witnessing of the cursed fire; Louis was huddled in an armchair with his boyfriend; Lucy stood in the centre of the room recounting heads for the third time and jotting names down onto a long sheet of parchment.

Rose, Finlay and Xan reached the spot by the fire where Albus and Chandra were waiting. Albus was looking considerably paler than usual, and there was a definite forced quality to the trill in Chandra's voice as she gave him a tarot reading.

'Oh, where the hell could he be?' sighed Xan bitterly, dropping down onto the settee beside Albus. 'Fin, are you _sure_ he didn't tell you where he was going?'

'Oh, right – I just remembered. He's gone to London for a shopping trip,' retorted Finlay. 'If only I had remembered to tell Professor Longbottom that the first ten times he asked me.'

'Well, I was just checking,' snapped Xan. 'There's no point in covering for him.'

'I know there's no point in covering for him. I'm _not_ covering for him. He was gone before I woke up this morning. What more do you want me to tell you?'

'But where could he have possibly gone?

'I'm off to bed,' announced Finlay bitterly. 'Night, all.'

And with that he turned and departed, Xan glaring after him.

'He's lying,' she informed the three fifth-years.

'Oh no, he isn't, is he?' asked Chandra nervously, glancing up at Xan from her spot on the floor beside the hearth. 'He wouldn't lie about something so serious, surely?'

'He and James deserve everything they get; they're both so moronic,' Xan declared, and she jumped to her feet. 'I'm going upstairs. Come get me when dinner arrives, will you?'

They told her they would and watched her traipse away up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Now alone, the three fell into silence, spare for the soft shuffling of Chandra's tarot. Moments passed in which they watched the fireplace, Chandra's nimble figures working over the deck of cards, before she turned to glance up at Albus.

'Al?'

He looked down at her. 'Mmm?'

'James didn't mention anything to you, did he?'

Albus shook his head. Chandra gave a slow nod of defeat and set apart laying herself out a spread. Albus watched her in silence as she did her reading, murmuring to herself as she gazed down at the cards, furrowing her brow as she turned each one over.

'Chandra?'

'Yes, Al?'

'You were up in the castle with Connor all day, weren't you?'

'Mhmm.'

'In his dormitory?'

Chandra's cheeks took on a shade of pink. 'Yeah.'

'And when you came through the common room, did you see Mei? We got separated on the way up to the castle – I was trying to find you two and she was getting the third years back up to Ravenclaw tower, and I wanted to check…'

'She's in her dorm,' said Rose. 'The heads of house told the prefects whose missing. They've got all the Ravenclaws. All except for Malfoy.'

'Oh, dear,' said Chandra. 'Oh, Merlin, this is awful. How can people still be missing?'

'I saw him in Hogsmeade today,' continued Rose. 'Right near the House of Magical Artefacts and Ancestry.'

Chandra gave a small gasp and an utterance of ' _what?';_ Albus turned back to her, eyebrows raised.

'I was following him,' she admitted and, prompted by Chandra's gaping mouth and Albus's wide eyes, she confessed. 'I don't know why, but I'd been drinking with Xan, and I was being stupid – but on the first day back at school, after his dad was arrested and there was another attempted break it at Gamp's manor, Malfoy turned up to the prefects meeting with his leg all messed up.'

Chandra looked horrified. 'Messed up? _How_? What happened, Rosie?'

Rose shook her head. 'I know it's ridiculous but I just couldn't help but thinking – like you said, Al, I know they didn't manage to get _into_ Gamp's house, but maybe that wasn't the point. If it looked like someone else was trying to get into Gamp's house while Draco Malfoy was at the Ministry, then they'd have to release him, wouldn't they? And everyone knows there are ways in and out of the school…'

'So you think Scorpius tried to break into the Gamp manor so they'd release his dad?' said Chandra slowly. 'And then today – oh, Merlin, Rosie, you don't think he did this awful stuff in Hogsmeade, do you?'

'Well, he was there,' said Rose thoughtfully. 'It's not impossible, is it? I never took Mum and Dad seriously when they talked about the Malfoys – I thought they were being paranoid. But perhaps Draco Malfoy really did come back to their side – maybe he hated Gamp even more than our parents did.'

'Did you tell the aurors?' asked Chandra.

'They asked if I knew if any other students were in that part of town, and I said I'd seen Malfoy around. They didn't seem to want to know much else.'

Chandra gave a murmur of dismay and turned to Albus. 'What do you think, Al?'

Albus said nothing and turned to the fire. 'Maybe. I dunno.'

'Al, you're the one who thought it was him in the first place,' said Rose. 'What about that stuff with the Slytherins the first night back at school?'

'I dunno.'

'Albus, you must have _some_ thought on the whole thing. You hate Malfoy.'

'I said I don't know, Rose,' snapped Albus. 'God, can you not be so bloody pushy for once in your life?'

' _I'm_ pushy? _You're_ the one who was going _on and on_ about Malfoy being out to get you, and when _I_ actually find some evidence of it you're no longer interested! All you want to know about is whether sodding Mei Zhao made it back and safe and sound to Ravenclaw tower?'

'You know,' said Albus slowly, gritting his teeth, 'I'm getting really tired of listening to you tell me how much you hate her.'

'Oh, she doesn't hate her, Al!' insisted Chandra, forcing a smile. 'Do you, Rosie?'

'I don't give a damn about Mei Zhao one way or another,' snapped Rose. 'And neither do you. You only asked her out to get back at Cassie – not that Cassie would care.'

'What would you know?' growled Albus. 'It's not like _you've_ ever had a boyfriend! Not like anyone's asking _you_ out!'

Rose's eyes flashed with anger, but when she spoke her voice was venomously even. 'And yet, unlike you, I can still find someone to shag me.'

'Oh, Rosie, don't!' pleaded Chandra. 'You're both upset – you don't mean it!'

'She always means it,' said Albus furiously.

'Yes, I do,' agreed Rose.

'Well, I mean it when I say I like her, and you're just going to just have to live with it,' Albus informed her hotly. 'I put up with all kinds of rubbish for you – getting up way too early to get breakfast before the rest of the school, listening to you go on and on about how much smarter you are than your parents, laughing at anyone who likes anything _you_ don't. You know, if it wasn't for you I probably would have been on the Quidditch team years ago, but you're always saying how much you hate it, which made _me_ hate it!'

Rose gave an immense sigh. 'I didn't _make_ you hate it, Al! It's not my fault you can't decide on your own opinions about _anything!_ '

'Well, I've decided about Mei, and I like her!'

'Fine! Brilliant! I hope you live happily ever after!'

'Good! We will!'

'Good!' spat Rose.

'Great!' bellowed Albus.

' _James!'_ shrieked Lily.

Across the common room, heads turned towards the Quidditch captain clambering out of the portrait hole, straightening up at the calls of greeting and relief that welcome him. He gazed around at the over-packed common room and cocked an eyebrow. 'Hello, all. Shouldn't you lot be down at the feast?'

From across the room people went for him: Rose, Albus and Chandra jumped up to meet him; Lucy swept across to berate him; his dorm-mates abandoned their card game to gamble over and interrogate him; his sister flew forward, landing at his side and delivering his temple with a sharp slap.

He gave a grunt of pain and shoved her away. 'What's your problem?'

'Lily!' cried Lucy, scandalised.

'Where the _hell_ have you been?' bellowed Lily.

'Oh, hello, Mother,' James drawled at the redhead. 'What brings you up to the school!'

Lily gazed up at him, her freckled face twisted with contempt, before her hand plunged for her wand.

Albus dived forward to catch her hand, pulling it sharply back to her side. 'Lily, don't!'

'Let go, Albus!'

'Evening, Al,' said James brightly, running a hand through his hair. 'Mind tell me what the hell is going on?'

'Me tell you?' asked Albus weakly. 'Well – well, no, James, I do bloody mind! Everyone's been looking for you!'

James frowned down at his brother before once again surveying the room, brow furrowed over the watchful eyes of the majority of his housemates, each of them gazing eagerly at the new-comer for some flare of drama.

'Crowded in here,' he said casually. 'Did I miss something interesting?'

Lucy gave a huff of indignation. 'If you call an outbreak of cursed fire in Hogsmeade interesting! Where were you? The aurors have been in the village for hours looking for students!'

James's brows shot upwards, and it was clear that this was indeed news to him. 'Did they? Must have missed me.'

'And how did you get back in the castle?' demanded Lucy. 'The caretaker's down at the front gate! She was supposed to summon to escort any students back up to the castle!'

'Oh, really?' said James, lofty as could be managed. 'Didn't see her - she must have popped off to the loo as I came through. Anyway, if you don't mind I think I might turn in – '

'James,' hissed Lucy venomously, 'you need to tell me where you've been. The whole village has been searched! If you were off out of bounds-'

James waved her away. 'Oh, Lucy, where could a lonesome soul like me get to? I've been doing a bit of shopping, poking in and out of here and there, took a nice stroll through Circe's Copse. None of that is out of bounds, is it?'

Lucy glared up at him, bristling with rage. It appeared her frustration had rendered her speechless.

'Must be bad luck the poor old aurors overlooked me. Right, well, then,' said James, grinning broadly. 'Off to bed. Sleep well, you lot.'

Heads turned to watch him stride away, swaggering his usual swagger, before disappearing up the stairs to boys dormitories. Slowly the students returned to their conversations. Lily, her cheeks still flushed with anger, trudged back across the room to re-join her friends and Lucy remained by the portrait hole, scowling after James, while Julian Jiang departed to inform the teachers James had turned up.

'Well,' said Chandra bracingly, glancing between Albus and Rose, 'he's back. That's very good, isn't it?'

'I'm going to bed,' declared Rose.

'Me, too,' said Albus.

'Oh, okay,' said Chandra squeakily, evidently anticipating another eruption between the cousins. 'Just wait while I go get my tarot cards…'

Albus did not obey, but rather turned away from the girls, ignoring Chandra's calls of goodnight and he tromped over to the dormitories.

* * *

The creek of the dormitory's door was enough to rouse Finlay from his shallow sleep. He woke quickly, jolting upright in his four-poster, snatching up his wand to illuminate the room.

'James,' he said to the boy in the doorway.

'Alright, Fin?'

'Fucking hell.' He scrambled out of bed, hurrying across the room to meet James. 'What happened?'

James managed to close the door before slumping back against it, abandoning his stance, allowing his leg to give way beneath him. Finlay lunged forwards, catching James's arm to hold hip upright.

'I've fucked my leg,' said James through gritted teeth. 'Can you have a look?'

Finlay was silent as he lowered James onto the floor, easing him into a sitting position with his bad leg stretched forward. With a flick of a wand he slit James's cotton trainers from ankle to thigh, brushing away the fabric to inspect the wound. He said nothing as he did so, afraid of what might come off his tongue is he dared to do so.

'You can fix it up, yeah?' James's voice was careless, but Finlay could hear it shudder.

'It's a cursed wound,' said Finlay. 'I haven't done this before.'

'I trust you.'

Finlay raised his wand once more and aimed it at James's leg, willing his hand not to shake. 'You shouldn't have done it, James.'

And with that he pressed the tip of his wand against the blackened flesh rippling up James's thigh. James stuffed his fist into his mouth, his teeth cutting into his knuckles and he forced back the cry of pain.

* * *

 **Song Credit: _A Whiter Shade of Pale_ by Procol Harum.**

 **A/N: So fucking long oh my god. Enjoy?**

 **To anyone who can stomach my disgustingly long-winded chapter I have all the gratitude in the world. Thank you, thank you, thank you! xx**


	8. Clear Skies

_14/02/2018_

* * *

 ** _Clear Skies  
_** _Knowing you, you'll wait for clear skies  
_ _To tell us how changes come about with the sunlight  
_ _So we'll count every drop that falls  
_ _While you throw us some old line  
_ _This will pass, this will pass  
_ _And I'm spending your time, wasting your time  
_ _You're with all you've ever wanted_

* * *

It was peculiar how sublime one felt in their waking hours. The sun was rising later each morning as the days wore into winter, peaking over the tips of the forbidden forest, a sliver of orange light cast against the wall of her dormitory. A single bird had begun to sing outside the window. Chandra's cat was meowing, pawing at the glass in an appeal to be allowed outside.

It was peculiar how, when rising from sleep, she knew something was wrong, but could not recall what it was. She sat up in her four-poster, tugging back the curtains, reviewing the day before.

It wasn't only the fire in Hogsmeade, or James's absence, or Malfoy disappearing in the village, but Albus was mad at her, and all the things she shouldn't have said came rushing back.

But then, of course, there were things he shouldn't have said either, so ought she bother feeling remorseful?

 _Yes,_ she told herself. She was the one who knew better.

She ran a hand through her mess of ginger hair, forcing it back from her face, and rose to her feet. There was no use mulling the previous evening over in her head, cursing herself and Albus and James.

She dwelled on this as she gathered up her jeans and sweater and crossed to the bathroom to shower. She and Albus were ill-fitted friends, and yet he had been her only companion for the first eleven years of her life; she was too difficult, and he was too soft, but they had grown into each other, stomached each other when very few others could.

Other than Albus, her only proper friend was Chandra, who Rose knew could seldom muster the vitriol to think poorly of anyone, and therefore Rose could hardly hold herself accountable for their friendship: anyone could be Chandra's friend, even someone as harsh as Rose.

She stepped out of the shower and crossed to the bathroom mirror. She rubbed away the condensation and inspected her bony body. She wasn't attractive and she wasn't kind and she wasn't much else other than Chandra's and Albus's friend. What did she have if it weren't for them?

She pulled on her clothes and left the bathroom, tiptoeing across the dormitory, and descended the stairs to the common room. It was deserted. She hurried across to the portrait hole; if she ate quickly enough she could be concealed somewhere in the castle studying by the time Chandra came looking for her, no doubt anxious to see her and Albus make amends, and Rose wasn't sure she was ready for that.

'Rosie.'

She turned at the sound of the name, and there was the boy she wasn't sure she was ready for. He was by the window, standing in front of an armchair he had evidently been perched in watching for her. He looked peaky, his green eyes bleary and his sallow cheeks looking especially hollow, but of course he always looked that way in the mornings, and with a pang of guilt she remembered something she had forgotten in the string of affronts he had thrown at her.

Before she knew why she was saying it, she asked, 'I thought you were sick of this kind of rubbish from me.'

'I – what?'

'"Getting up way too early": that's what you said last night. If it bothers you so much why don't you just sleep in? I'm not bothered by eating breakfast alone.'

He seemed to wither before her, like a scolded puppy, and he hung his head; it was not the typical head hanging, which one would expect from someone feigning guilt, but rather a sorrowful head hanging. 'I thought you liked the company,' he told her meekly.

'Not if you're going to yell at me about it.' Why did she say that? Why was she making it worse? 'But I suppose I deserve it.'

Albus looked up at her – wide, curious eyes. He hadn't been expecting that, she knew.

'I'm sure Zhao's fine,' she continued. 'I don't know her very well.'

Green eyes swelled still wider, and when he spoke his voice was bubbling with excited disbelief. 'Yes, she's – she's good. But I don't know her that well either – but perhaps I'll get to know her – and perhaps you could too-'

'Okay.'

He grinned at her. 'Okay.'

And she knew it was settled – settled, at least, as much as Albus would have been expecting. Had it been anyone else they would have needed more; expected at the very least a muttered "sorry", and she knew she owed him that much, and yet her apologies were poor and stunted due to underuse, and so instead she sufficed to tell him: 'I'm going to breakfast.'

'Cool, I'll come – if you want me to.'

'If you can stand being awake so early.'

They walked down to breakfast mostly in silence. They were so early that the house-elves had not yet sent up the first round of dishes and so, wordlessly, Rose led Albus out through the entrance hall into the school yard. It was a crisp morning, silent and still and cloudless and they started down the cobbled pathway that led to the greenhouses.

'Do you think anyone died?' Albus asked her.

'Yesterday? In the village?'

'Yeah.'

Rose shook her head. 'I don't think so. They took everyone to St. Mungo's. The healers would have fixed it.'

Albus was silent, and Rose glanced across at him. He was staring at his feet as they walked.

'What?' she asked him.

'What?'

'What's wrong?'

Albus hesitated. She could see him searching for the words, but quickly deemed he was taking too long.

'Are you thinking about James?'

'How did you know that?'

'Because I was too.'

'I'm sure James isn't that stupid,' Albus said matter-of-factly. 'He wouldn't hurt anyone, would he?'

'No, he wouldn't. He was probably just off with his friends.'

Albus nodded, looking relieved. 'Yeah.'

'Do you have practice today?'

Albus modded wearily. 'Everyday this week. James made us all promise we'd be there.'

'Well, at least that means he can't sneak out again.' The pathway they were following was petering away. They had reached the herbology gardens. Rose heaved a sigh. 'I think you should ask Mei what time Scorpius Malfoy got back to their common room last night.'

Albus glanced at her, alarmed. 'Why do I need to do that?'

'Because then we'll have a better idea of what he was doing in the village yesterday. We need to give the teachers as much information as we can.'

'You want to tell the teachers?'

'Well, obviously, Al. If he's responsible for what happened in Hogsmeade we can't just keep it to ourselves.

'I don't think… but we don't… they won't believe us, will they?'

'That's why you need to ask Mei,' said Rose sternly. When Albus continued to gaze at her with wide, reluctant eyes, she heaved a sigh. 'Albus, do you want him to get away with this?'

'Well, no.'

'Good. So you'll ask Mei?'

Albus gave a slow nod. 'Alright.'

* * *

Godric's Hollow was silent in the mornings when his children weren't around. It was something that had attracted him so forcefully after the war; the empty streets and branches scraping against thatched rooves, no voices or car engines or bellowing journalists to drown it out.

He paused on his way down the stairs, inspecting the day out of the arched windows. The sky was cloudless. The field that served as his backyard was struggling in anticipation of winter; the birch trees were standing bare and the overgrown grass was no longer green. Had he had the time, he told himself, he ought to do something about it.

He found his wife in the kitchen, sitting at the table. He knew she had been waiting for him; a teapot sat steaming and _The_ _Daily Prophet_ lay splayed before her as if in question.

'Morning,' he said to her.

'I thought I should let you sleep in.'

'Thanks.'

'I made tea.'

'Great.' He took a seat and poured himself a cup.

She let him drink in silence, the paper lying between them, urging him for some type of justification. He read the headline without meaning to: _Disaster strikes Hogsmeade – blood equality to blame._

Her question came later than he was expecting, and far less accusatory. 'What happened to James?'

He glanced up at her over his tea. She wasn't looking at him, but rather had her gaze fixed out of the window. There wasn't much to see out of it other than the crumbling brick of their owlery. He couldn't help but reach for her hand.

'He's okay, Ginny. He's fine.'

She seemed to wince at his assurance. Falteringly, her fingers squeezed his, before she withdrew her hand under the pretence of refilling their teacups.

'The paper says Rowle's claiming that it was the same people who killed Gamp,' she said. 'Pureblood haters.'

'There's nothing to suggest that.'

'But that's what everyone's going to think, isn't it?'

'Probably. When the Wizengamot convened last night he presented two new bills: one to have a curfew imposed on Wizarding streets and another to have Muggle-studies removed as a compulsory subject.'

'What does Muggle-studies have to do with anything?' demanded Ginny.

'He says it's to make a point to the perpetrators: that pro-Muggle ideology isn't to interfere with our traditions.'

'Do you think the Wizengamot will pass them?'

'They all seemed pretty happy about it last night.'

Ginny shook her head in dismay. She turned her gaze back to the window, frowning in thought. Several minutes passed before she spoke again. 'I feel like going up to the school and seeing James and asking him where the hell he was all day.'

'Leave it the professors, Ginny.'

'Where was he? What was he doing going missing for so long?'

'He was probably off with his friends.'

'You said all his dorm-mates were back in the common room.'

'With a girl, then. I don't know.'

'Stop defending him, Harry. I could tell you were furious when you got home last night. He can't go wandering off like that.'

'The thing is that he can; he's seventeen,' said Harry placidly. 'He doesn't need his mum and dad going up to Hogwarts and scolding him.'

'He's seventeen, but he's still our son. He still needs to follow school rules. He can't act like an adult when he's still at school and still living in our house.'

'Well, perhaps we need to accept that fact that he won't be for much longer.'

Ginny gave him a venomous look, and he continued before she could snap at him.

'You know he's going to want to leave home as soon as he can, Ginny. You could tell how jealous he was when Fred said he and Juniper were going travelling. He's going to go too as soon as he's done with school.'

If Ginny thought he was right, she covered it with a sharp, bitter laugh. 'Right, and with what money? You think he has any interest in getting a summer job and saving up like Fred?'

'We opened the Gringotts vault for him. What else is that money going to be used for?'

'That money's for his education - so he can find a career. We're not rewarding him for behaving like this.'

'If we set limitations for what James can do with his money then we're setting a precedent. We'll have to do the same for Al and Lily, or James will never speak to us again.'

'We won't need to set limitations for Al and Lily. They've got sensible plans. Lily's been wanting to go to Paris to be a seamstress since she was five, and Al wants to do a potioneering apprenticeship.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'He told you that?'

'I found pamphlets in his desk.'

'You go through his desk?'

Ginny's eyes narrowed. 'I was looking for a quill, Harry. You and your children hoard them and I'm the only one who ever buys more.'

Harry raised a hand in defence. 'Alright. Sorry.'

'The money in those vaults is for their future.'

Harry made a face, drew a breath, and considered how to proceed. 'Ginny, you know their futures are going to be fine. They could all go travelling and all do three different apprenticeships and all buy their own manor houses and they'd be fine. We have money.'

'I know that,' said Ginny coolly. 'But that's not how I want them to grow up. I want them to learn how to work for things.'

'And I want them to be able to do the things I couldn't when I was their age. If James wants to travel, he can travel.'

'He can travel after he's learnt how to work towards something. You never make him work for anything.'

Harry was silent, staring at her from across the kitchen. She looked riled, her dark eyes fixed upon him sharply. The way she spoke to him was full of vitriol, but he himself relished in. He liked these types of arguments; the type that made him feel normal. This was what normal people did; bickered over children and discipline and money. Normal people didn't get called to put out cursed fire on a Saturday afternoon.

He tore his eyes away from her to glance at his watch. 'I need to head into the office.'

Ginny seemed to deflate slightly, and said in a would-be gentle voice, 'You don't have to. It's a Sunday.'

'The Heads of Department need to be briefed. We didn't have the time last night.'

'Call in sick.'

'I don't want to give Rowle the opportunity to spin the story his way. I shouldn't be gone long.'

'You're going to work yourself to death.'

'What's new?'

Ginny laughed. He found himself smiling.

'It's not too late to become a professor, you know,' she told him.

'Yeah, but the scars make me look so rugged.'

Ginny rolled her eyes and got to her feet. 'But you're going grey: you look old. I'm meeting Luna in Diagon Alley. Do you need anything while I'm there?'

'No, thanks. Say hello for me.'

'I'll get you some rosehip essence. I'm sick of looking at the bags under your eyes.'

She picked up the teapot and moved to the sink. She turned on the tap to give it a rinse. Watching her, he pulled himself up and moved towards her, laying a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, questioning.

'I don't mean to be gone as much as I am, you know?'

Ginny turned back to the sink, turning the teapot over beneath the running water, washing the leaves away down the drain. 'I know,' she said slowly. 'You still are, though, aren't you?'

* * *

He was waiting for him, perched by the doorway, knowing that he could only feign sleep for so long. He watched as he raised himself up in his four-poster, wincing as he did so, his mess of raven hair falling all over his face. His dark eyes met his from across the room.

'Hey,' he said.

'Morning,' croaked James. He propped himself up on his elbow, his movements slow and uncertain. 'Good night last night?'

Finlay didn't reply, but rather crossed the room to James's four-poster and ripped back the covers. James flinched slightly as the duvet was torn back from his leg, but Finlay gave him no mind, leaning over him to examine the wound.

'Looks gorgeous,' said James. Finlay's handiwork had turned the blackened burn into wide, purple scab. 'You're an artist, Fin.'

Finlay threw the duvet back over James and turned away. 'You can't fly today.'

James took hold of the four-poster's headboard, pulling himself upwards and easing his legs over the side of the bed. 'You worry too much.'

Finlay watched him wobble to his feet, unsmiling. 'You probably shouldn't walk on it.'

'Back off, Mum.'

'Oh, fuck off, James.'

James cocked an eyebrow. 'What's your problem?'

Finlay turned away. 'You know what it is.'

'Oh, come on,' sighed James. 'Poor little Finny's sulking. Do you want a hug?'

Finlay didn't smile. 'Don't make me do that again.'

'Stop being dramatic.'

'Go fuck yourself.'

James hesitated, taken-aback. 'Fin…'

'You should go the hospital wing. I'm not a healer. And you shouldn't play next week.'

'It's the first match of the year!'

'I'm just telling you what's what. I didn't expect you to listen.'

He turned towards the door, and James scrambled forwards, hobbling on his leg. 'Finlay, wait… listen…'

Finlay eyed him guardedly. Standing with his weight all on one leg, his dark eyes staring pleadingly, his thin, dark face sallow-looking. Finlay willed himself not to take any pity on the boy.

'Could you just… can you help me get my robes on?'

He realised only after James spoke that he had been hoping for an apology, and he told himself he should have known better.

'Do it yourself,' he bit back. 'I'm done fixing your problems.'

And with that he was gone, slamming the dormitory door behind him. Now alone, James allowed himself to slump back on the nearest four-poster, succumbing to a groan of pain.

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy looked like someone you ought to avoid: a gait like a kind of faltering strut of someone who thinks them self more important than they are; hair longer than what was presently fashionable in a declaration of his perceived peculiarity and the supposed merit he discerned from it; the pointed chin, pinched nose and haughty, hollow cheekbones of a lineage of men that nobody wanted to know these days.

Rose Weasley was watching for him that morning. She wasn't exactly trying to hide it, although Albus still felt some sense of achievement in having noticed her fixation. She had always ridiculed his distrust of the Ravenclaw, and yet here she was, waiting keenly for his arrival.

If Rose was expecting to glean some clue from the sight of the boy that morning, she was disappointed: he arrived in the same manner as he always did, flanking his girlfriend and looking morose.

'He's going to notice you staring,' Albus told her in an undertone.

'I'm not staring.'

This was a lie, but it may as well have been the truth; she was no longer interested in Malfoy now that he had taken his seat, and even she it had been he surely wouldn't have noticed. That morning's edition of the _Prophet_ had announced that Draco Malfoy had once again been taken into questioning by the auror office ensured that she wasn't the only one staring across the Great Hall at the Ravenclaw.

'Rose, have some juice,' said Chandra quickly, brandishing the jug of pumpkin juice at her from across the table. 'Al, will you have some?'

They both declined, and Rose returned to frowning across the Great Hall. It was hard to think with Chandra interrupting; she had been attempting to rouse a conversation since arriving at breakfast, trying to alleviate any opportunity for the cousins to begin arguing again.

At that moment, the Ravenclaw that Rose had been searching for arrived, flanked by her friends. She entered the Great Hall just as Scorpius Malfoy was leaving; a glance at the _Prophet's_ front page had apparently put him off breakfast, and he marched from the room without so much as a sip of tea.

Rose turned to Albus. 'Mei's here.'

Albus spun in his seat to look towards the Ravenclaw table. Mei was taking a seat with her friends, her long hair swept over her shoulder, and as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice he saw her eyes shift towards the Gryffindors. Their eyes met and his stomach gave a lurch; he told himself to smile, and managed a grimace. He saw her blush, smile, and then turn pointedly to her friend and begin talking rapidly.

'Are you going to go talk to her?' asked Chandra eagerly.

'When I'm finished, maybe.'

Rose nodded at his empty breakfast plate. 'Are you finished now?'

'Well… yeah, alright. Fine.'

'Just ask when he got back in.'

Albus grimaced. 'I don't think she's going to like me asking her to spy on her housemates.'

'It's not spying. It's observing.'

'Can't we ask someone else? Like Connor?'

'I tried. He said he went to bed early,' said Chandra.

'Besides, we need to ask a prefect,' said Rose matter-of-factly. 'They're the ones who will have been counting the heads, and she might have even asked him where he'd been. God knows she's nosy enough.'

Albus sighed. He hesitated before rising, sparing a second to check his reflection in the back of his spoon quickly enough so as not to be noticed by Rose, and then got to his feet and started towards the Ravenclaw table. He felt very aware of his limbs as he approached Mei but she wasn't looking at him, and instead was taking particular care to butter her toast.

'Hi, Mei,' he said when he reached her.

She looked up at him. He was sure she had been avoiding looking at him until then, and he took some solace in the fact that she was apparently as equally nervous as he was. 'Good morning,' she said.

'How are you?'

'Alright,' she said, frowning. 'I didn't get much sleep. I had to wait up until all the students returned to the common room.'

'Oh?' he forced himself to say. 'Were there students missing in your house too?'

'Yes, unfortunately.'

'Which ones?'

'The usual ones. They claimed not to have known they had to return to the school. It's ridiculous.'

'Yeah… yeah, that is ridiculous.' He couldn't think how else to probe for information, and instead stood before her, feeling increasingly panicked beneath her gaze. 'So, yesterday was… was fun.'

He watched as Mei seemed to find herself caught between blushing and frowning; the colour of her cheeks betrayed the look of disapproval she gave. 'Yes, it was nice until the village got set on fire.'

'Yeah, I… I meant having tea.'

'Yes, I thought that's what you must mean.'

There was another silence. He had to say something else – quickly.

'Do you want to go out again?' he asked.

She abandoned the look of disapproval to turn scarlet. 'Yes, that would be nice.'

'Cool,' said Albus, grinning at her. 'Only I've got practice every night this week.'

Mei frowned at him. 'Every night?'

'Yeah, the first match is next weekend.'

'Of course. How could I forget?'

'Yeah, well… perhaps the next week then.'

'Yes, perhaps.' She picked up her butter knife and returned to buttering her toast. He could feel the eyes of her friends inspecting him, and he knew he had said the wrong thing.

'Unless – unless you like Quidditch?'

She glanced at him. 'Somewhat.'

'Maybe… maybe you could come watch me practice one night this week? And then we could do something afterwards?'

She hesitated, considering his offer, before she gave a stiff nod. 'Yes, I could do that.'

'Great. So – so you'll come?'

'Not today. I need to study. We have a test on Friday. But perhaps I could come that evening.'

'Yeah. Cool. Great. Alright, well… well, I'll see you later then,' he said, beaming at her.

She gave him a smile. 'Alright, see you.'

He gave her one final smile before he turned away and hurried off, once again feeling very aware of his feet. Knowing Rose would chide him for his failure to extract any information, he chose to ignore her and Chandra's beckoning from across the great hall and instead started back towards his Gryffindor tower to get ready for practice.

In his dormitory he pulled on his Quidditch robes hurriedly and clumsily, his mind still whirring from his fleeting interaction with Mei. Speaking to her was exhilarating in a way he couldn't explain, but the anxiety that wracked him in her presence was almost debilitating. He was unsure how he was supposed to manage enough conversation to last another date, but the prospect of Friday evening was none the less exciting enough to keep him grinning all the way down to Quidditch pitch.

His high spirits were apparently not shared by his team mates. He found them lounging in the middle of the pitch with their broomsticks under the arms, looking sullen. Their captain was conspicuously absent.

'Where's James?' asked Albus when he reached them.

'Who knows?' sighed Xan. 'Probably sleeping off whatever he did last night. Was he awake when you left the dormitory, Fin?'

Finlay said nothing, but continued to swing his beaters' bat absently between his fingers.

'Should I go look for him?' offered Adam.

'Perhaps he doesn't expect us to practice today,' said Kim. 'After what happened yesterday it feels pretty bad to be worrying about Quidditch.'

'Kim, promise you will never, ever say that around James,' warned Louis. 'It will be the last thing you do.'

'If he doesn't turn up on time I don't see why we should sit here waiting,' said Xan.

Nobody protested this, but Albus silently agreed, and by the scowls on most of his teammates' faces he was sure they were all in consensus.

'Right,' said Finlay after a few moments silence, pulling himself to his feet. 'I'm not waiting any longer. I have an essay to write and-'

Finlay was cut short, however, by a bounding silver streak that burst into the centre of the group, materialising into the gleaming form of a maned lion. It hung in the air, brilliant and shimmering, before it opened its jaws and James's voices spoke from its mouth.

' _Running late. Get moving. Twenty laps of the pitch and practice passing until I'm there._ '

And the lion evaporated like mist as quickly as it appeared.

Adam gaped around at them. 'Was that…'

'… a patronus?' said Kim uncertainly.

'A _lion_ patronus,' said Louis, grinning.

'Can James cast a patronus?' asked Adam in awe.

'We've been learning in defense,' said Xan, who seemed to be unable to suppress her surprise. 'A few people have produced corporeal ones, but Doge hasn't even started getting us to use them as messengers. James must have taught himself.'

'He has to be good at something, doesn't he?' said Louis. 'Alright, what are we waiting for?'

'Okay, let's get started,' instructed Xan, mounting her Cleansweep. 'Everyone up. We better not be sitting around when he gets here.'

One by one the Gryffindors pulled themselves up, mounting their brooms and taking off. Albus, scowling, climbed onto the school broom he had borrowed. Discovering another of James's talents was enough to quell any joy that Mei had sprouted.

Kicking off, he noticed Finlay level with him. Finlay was not someone Albus would generally consider glum, but as they soared upwards Albus was sure that he wasn't the only one irked the lion's appearance.

* * *

Friday evening found the Gryffindor Quidditch team in fowl spirits. Albus had no way of knowing if this was the norm for his team-mates on the eve of matches, but he suspected it was not the case. He knew that it could be somewhat attributed to the news the _Prophet_ had been bringing them of Mikhael Rowle's proposed curfews and the tension that had arisen amongst disagreeing students, some of whom supported Rowle and some of whom sided with Hermione Granger's objections. However, Albus was sure that the disastrous practice sessions would have occurred regardless of the political climate.

Firstly, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone, Finlay and James were not currently on speaking terms.

Secondly, Xan had taken it upon herself to attempt to bully them both into making amends, which had resulted in the two boys extending their animosities towards her as well.

Thirdly, Kim had spent most of the week telling anyone who would listen that Rowle needed to be removed from office and finally on Thursday evening, under mounting pressure from the prospect of his first match, Adam had told her to shut up. James, sulking over his own poor performance that evening, had done nothing to mediate the subsequent fight that broke out, and now two more players were currently estranged.

Albus was certain that could they win the match tomorrow all ill-feeling between the seven of them would be resolved. Winning the match, however, would most likely require him to catch the snitch, which Albus believed to be incredibly unlikely. Whatever improvement he had made since making the team in September had seemed to ebb away the closer he got to the first match. They had been practicing for the better half of three hours that evening and in that time Albus hadn't caught the practice snitch once.

James seemed ready to burst. 'I'm going to kill all of you.'

Nobody had any words of reply. They stood around the changing room, drenched in sweat and refusing to look at each other as James bared down upon them.

'Weasley,' said James, apparently selecting Louis as his first victim on a savage whim, 'you scored once. _Once_. What the fuck is wrong with you?'

Before Louis could reply, James turned to Xan, pointing his finger at her in accusation. 'Do you know what a bat is? It's that thing in your hand! You're supposed to bloody well use it!'

Xan opened her mouth to protest, but James wasn't interested. He rounded on Kim. 'I don't give a fuck if you take it upon yourself to knock Farouk off his broom tomorrow; you still need to _pass him the fucking Quaffle after you save!_ Louis and I can't be waiting by you every second to save you from having to look at him!'

Kim looked abashed, and gave a feeble, 'But…'

'But nothing!' bellowed James. 'I don't give a fuck! I don't give a _fuck_ if he's a Muggle hater – he's still a Chaser!'

'My mum's a Muggle,' protested Adam.

Kim turned dangerous eyes towards him. 'Then why don't you care what Rowle's been saying about Muggle-borns?'

'I _do_ care! I just don't see how us talking about it helps-'

'Oh, shut up!' barked James. 'Shut up the pair of you – and _you…_ '

It was what Albus had been waiting for. James turned to him, brandishing his finger as if it was a wand ready to aim a curse at him. Instinctively Albus took a step away, backing against the wall of the change rooms. James stepped forward after him, jabbing the front of his robes.

'What the actual _fuck?_ '

'I… I didn't…'

'Didn't catch the snitch? Yes, Albus, I bloody well realise that. You're the seeker! It's your only job! Your _one, stupid, simple, pathetic_ _job_ and you can't even do that right!'

'It's his first game tomorrow, mate,' said Louis from across the room, but he went ignored.

'I know it's my own fault for putting you on the team – Dod knows you can barely get the broom off the ground – but I don't see what's so fucking hard about catching a ball, do you?' demanded James.

'Alright, stop,' said Finlay finally, stepping forward towards the brothers. 'You're being a prick, James.'

Albus saw James flinch with anger, and he rounded on the beater. 'I'm the captain. You stay out of it.'

'Being captain doesn't make you emperor of all of us. What do you think yelling at everyone's going to do?'

'What the fuck would you know? It's not like you've been playing so brilliantly.'

'Ever realise what we've all got in common is that _you're_ our captain? When Fred was captain-'

'I don't want to hear about Fred!'

' _When Fred was captain, he took the time to make a proper training schedule instead of working us all to death!'_

'Al,' said Xan quietly, stepping towards him to take his arm. 'Come on, let's go.'

Albus looked around at her. Louis, Kim and Adam were already moving towards the door, capitalising on James's distraction. He didn't need much convincing. He picked up his broom and hurried after Xan, leaving Finlay and James to scream at each other across the change room.

Once out the door, the full impact of what James had said to him hit him. There was no refuting it; he was useless. He was useless and they were going to lose tomorrow. They were going to lose because of him.

'Hello.'

He started, looking around to find Mei standing near the door. He had been so immersed in how terribly he had played that he had forgotten that she had been in the stands watching.

'Hi,' he said, hoping desperately that she had not heard what James had said to him through the door. It seemed unlikely, however, as he could make out every name James and Finlay were throwing at each other from within the change room. 'Sorry to make you wait.'

'That's okay. I thought your brother might have something to say to you.'

Albus stomach gave an unpleasant turn. 'Yeah… I… that was bad.'

'It wasn't you,' said Mei. 'It was the whole team.'

'Right… yeah. Thanks.'

'And besides, he shouldn't have yelled at you all. It's not very fair. It's not like he's playing well either.'

'Yeah… I… yeah.'

'Well? Did you still want to do something?'

Albus hesitated, The honest answer was no. All he wanted to do was return to his dormitory and attempt to drown himself in the shower, but that would mean having to pass through the common room where Rose was undoubtedly waiting; he had assured her that this was the evening he would question Mei about Malfoy.

'Yeah, of course,' he told her. 'Should we… go for a walk, maybe?'

'There's not much else to do, I suppose. But we shouldn't be gone too long. I don't want to miss curfew.'

'Yeah, okay.'

They started away from the pitch. Instead of following the path that his team mates were taking up to the school, they trailed towards the lake. It was nearly nine o'clock and the moon was reflected in the water, shimmering silver. Albus thought of the patronus that had materialised on the pitch last Sunday. James had a knack for tricky things, he thought miserably, and particularly for knowing what to say to hurt someone.

'So are you nervous about tomorrow?' Mei asked him.

Albus had been so immersed in feeling sorry for himself that he had forgotten to feel embarrassed about having nothing to say to her. He didn't particularly want to answer, but he didn't have the energy to lie.

'Yeah,' he replied.

'That's understandable. I'm sure everyone is before their first match.'

'Yeah, but most people who join the team do it because they really like Quidditch. I'd never even flown a broom properly until August.'

He wasn't sure why he was telling her this, but it made him feel somehow better to speak his self-pity aloud. Mei didn't seem to mind this, and she asked, 'So why did you join the team?'

'I don't know. To… to prove a point I suppose.'

'What was the point?'

'That I'm not totally useless at everything. Seems like I am, though.'

'Stop feeling sorry for yourself,' she instructed. 'You're just going to make it worse. If you turn up to the match tomorrow sulking then your brother will take it as an opportunity to attack you again. Just don't worry so much. It's only Quidditch.'

Albus frowned. 'That makes sense, actually.'

'I enjoy watching the game, but I think people take it much too seriously,' said Mei wisely. 'Especially considering everything that's going on in the Ministry.'

Albus had trouble agreeing with this, but nodded none the less.

'Have you been reading the papers?' she asked him.

'Yeah, a little.'

'That Rowle really is delusional. My stepfather used to work with him when he first started at the Ministry. Apparently he's a total idiot.'

'Your stepdad works at the Ministry?'

'In the department of mysteries. He's a big fan of your dad, actually.'

'Everyone is,' he replied.

Albus was aware it was not advisable to reveal on a second date how truly bitter one could be, but he couldn't stop himself. She gave him a questioning look, and he realised that what he ought to be doing was seizing the opportunity like Rose had insisted.

'So, what do you think happened in the village?' he asked.

'Who knows. Probably some idiots thinking they can intimidate Rowle out of office. Even if he is hideous they can't just go around blowing up buildings.'

'My cousin thinks it might have been a student.'

Mei frowned. 'Well, I doubt that.'

'Really?' he forced himself to say. 'You don't think someone could have done it?'

'It would take really powerful magic.'

'Well, my cousin says she saw some students acting strangely in the village.'

'And which cousin is that?'

'Rose.'

'Ha. Of course. I'm sure she thinks this whole thing is a joke. She's so immature. Why do you spend so much time with her?'

'I don't. I mean, I do, but…. Well, she just thinks it might be best to tell the teachers.'

'Tell them what exactly?'

'She thinks she saw Scorpius Malfoy around the courtyard when it happened.'

'So?'

'So... well, his family's a bit funny, you know.'

'Well, if I were you I'd tell Rose to mind her own business.'

'So you didn't... you didn't see him come back late on Saturday?'

Mei stopped walking and he turned to look at her fully. She was glaring at him, her dark eyes alight beneath the moon. 'Is this why you wanted to see me tonight?'

'I... What?'

'Everyone knows our head of house pulls people off the Quidditch team for bad behaviour. I know you're scared about tomorrow but I didn't think you'd stoop so low as to try to get Scorpius thrown off the team.'

Albus shook his head. 'Oh, no. I don't care about the game-'

'Obviously you do. You're clearly desperate to get in favour with your brother. I really thought you were above all this ridiculous house rivalry.'

'I am - it's only - with Malfoy...'

'Forget it. I'm not giving you fuel to turn him over to the teachers. If you want to win tomorrow you'll have to do it on your own: not by getting him thrown off the team.'

'Mei, look… It's not about that. Rose just wanted… she told me if I asked you-'

'Oh, so it was Rose's idea?' demanded Mei. 'That's why you asked me out. God, she really is a piece of work.'

'No, you don't understand…'

'Excuse me?' she hissed at him. 'I understand a lot more than you do, Albus. Goodnight.'

'No, Mei – wait…'

But it was too late. She whipped around and began back along the path, walking briskly. He didn't have the energy to pursue her, and even if he did he didn't think he could think of words of amends. He turned back to lake, scowling.

* * *

Breakfast was grim the next morning. Chandra was doing her best to coax him into eating. Rose did her best to suppress her irritation when he relayed what had happened with Mei that previous evening. James's dorm-mates, sans Finlay, erupted into cheers when the captain arrived at breakfast, sending Albus into hyperventilation.

'I'm going to die,' panted Albus, staring down the table as the seventh years adorned James in a conjured lion-skin coat. 'I'm actually going to die.'

'You're not going to die,' said Rose impatiently.

'I am. How did I ever think I could do this?'

'Because you can, Albus. You just need to stop worrying.'

'I'm going to die, and if I don't James is going to kill me.

Rose was saved from answering by a heavy beating of wings above that announced the arrival of the morning post. Rose gave his shoulder a consoling pat.

'Come on, it's nearly ten. We'll walk you down to the pitch.'

'Don't you want to wait for _The Prophet?_ ' he asked her, glancing up at the owls.

'Not particularly. I'm sick of seeing Rowle's disgusting face on the front page. Let's go.'

They started to their feet, but were interrupted by the arrival of a large barn owl swooping over their heads and depositing a large brown paper package down onto Albus's uneaten plate of eggs. The owl swooped away without stopping, soaring back into the air.

'Wasn't that Gertrude?' said Rose, frowning at the retreating owl. Albus followed it too, trying to discern if it was his father's.

Chandra stooped over the parcel, reading the attached tag. 'It's addressed to you, Al.'

Albus looked down at the long, thing package. He knew what it was immediately. It was strange how jealous he had been when he watched James unwrap his first racing broom, and yet how unhappy he felt to receive his own.

'Come on, Al,' urged Rose, giving him a nudge. 'You better open it, quick.'

Albus did so. He tore back the brown wrapping, as quickly as possible; he didn't want to extend the ordeal, and he especially didn't want to catch James's attention. Just as he knew he would, he tossed the wrapping paper away and found himself clutching broomstick, it's polished mahogany glistened under the morning light. As he knew nothing about brooms, he needed to check the inscription on the handle to identify the model: a Comet 2022. Even he in his ignorance knew it was the top of the line in racing brooms.

'Oh, wow,' said Chandra whistfully. 'It's beautiful.'

'There's a letter,' said Rose, retrieving a folded slip of parchment from within the discarded wrapping paper.

She passed it to Albus. The sorry look she gave him told he she knew how embarrassed he was, and he was pleased she said nothing else. Instead she merely gestured for them to follow her, and she started towards the doors into the entrance hall. Albus followed after her, Chandra at his side, tucking the broom under his arm.

He waited until they were outside and on the pathway down the pitch to open the letter. Chandra and Rose were several paces ahead of him, talking between themselves. He stared down at his father's handwriting.

 _Dear Albus,_

 _Good luck today._

 _Love,_

 _Dad_

* * *

Not for the first time, Albus wished the change rooms were sound-proofed. He could hear, with painful accuracy, the voices outside as students flocked into the stands, talking excitedly amongst himself. It was bad enough that he had to play Quidditch; he didn't need to be reminded that people would be watching.

His new broomstick had already attracted attention Albus knew would come but had dreaded none the less. Adam, who was flying on his father's old broom, was particularly taken by it.

'Do you think I could have a go?' he asked pleadingly. 'Not now, obviously – one night after practice?'

Albus agreed with a nod. He didn't think he could manage any words.

'Wow, Al – that's amazing. I owe you one. Seriously, anything you want…'

James, who had until then been tolerating the attention Albus was getting, had apparently had his fill, for he gave his hands a heavy clap. 'Right, listen up, you lot.'

'You don't need to clap at us,' said Kim. 'We're not dogs.'

James glared at her, and the six of them glared back at him. James had apparently crossed a line with most of them last night and Albus had even questioned whether everyone would turn up to play. James had apparently questioned this too, for he didn't snap back and Kim and instead launched into directions.

'Easterly wind – keep that in mind. There's no cloud cover. Sun's bright today, so the beaters need to keep an extra eye out. Ravenclaw lost their keeper last year so we need to take advantage of that, but they retained the rest of their team. Corner's been made captain and he's not afraid to really go for it with bludgers, so watch out. Malfoy caught the snitch in the majority of their games last year, so if anyone gets the chance knock him off his broom.'

Albus goggled at his brother, horrified, but nobody else in the room seemed to react. Apparently they had received these type of instructions before.

'And… well, just...' James paused for a breath, heaved a sigh, and slung his broom over his shoulder. 'Nobody get their skull knocked in, okay?'

This was apparently as much as an apology James could muster, and they all seemed to realise it, for there was a murmur of agreement from around the room. Only Finlay remained scowling as they left the change rooms and marched out towards the pitch.

When Albus reflected on that day in the weeks and months and perhaps years to come, he struggled to recount it in a series of events. He had only vague memories of the walk onto the pitch and the bellowing cheers and boos from the stands and the ease with which his new broom rose from the ground. Instead, in the future when he was to reflect on it, he would remember that Saturday as the beginning of many things, and the end of his belief that a Quidditch match demanded skill.

In what he witnessed as he gained himself some height and the other players launched into the match, he didn't see anything he would call skill. Watching from hundreds of feet below, he had never realised just how rough the game was, and it wasn't skill that fuelled his team-mates; it was unimpeded aggression.

The first thing that happened after the whistle blew was David Corner charging into Finlay and very nearly knocking him off his broom. The next thing that happened was James slamming heavily into Corner and sending him spiralling away. The Ravenclaw's disadvantage lasted only a second, but it was enough time for James to get possession of the Quaffle and charge towards the goals.

'And Potter – Potter's got the quaffle,' the commentary roared around the pitch over the screaming crowd. 'Passes to Adam Farouk, he's new this year – passes back to Potter – passes to Lewis - sorry, Louis Weasley has the quaffle - passes to Potter - back to Weasley – back to Potter – and Potter scores!'

There was an eruption of cheers from below. Across the pitch, his teammates threw their arms into the air. James and Louis passed each other on their brooms, high-fiving. Albus, inexplicably, found himself clapping as he watched James do a brief victory lap of the pitch as the Madam Robins, the Quidditch instructor, relaunched the Quaffle.

James swooped past him back to the centre of the pitch, bellowing as he did so, 'Get moving, you prat!'

Albus remembered, with a jolt, that he was supposedly a seeker: glancing around the pitch, he caught sight of Malfoy who was circling below him, scouring for a flicker of gold. Albus decided to follow his lead, and as he did he heard the commentary start up as the chasers once again launched into the pursuit of the Quaffle.

Between dodging bludgers and searching for the snitch and the crowd's screaming below, it was hard to follow the commentary. Albus knew only that the match was close: Gryffindor scored first, then Ravenclaw, the Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw, then Gryffindor, and so on. The game was painfully tense within twenty minutes; James, Louis and a Ravenclaw beater had already received warnings for rough play.

Albus was doing his best to ignore an argument that had broken out below over a penalty shot for Ravenclaw. James was bellowing at Madam Robins. Albus could tell by his brother's sighing and yelling that he was resisting the temptation to swear at the woman.

 _Please don't,_ thought Albus desperately as he circled the pitch, listening to James's protests as the Ravenclaw chaser took their shot. _Please don't, James._

From around the pitch, Albus heard a great groan of dismay which he took to mean the Ravenclaw had missed the shot. Around him the game started again, but Albus was no longer paying it any mind; across the pitch he had seen a glimmer of gold at the bottom of the goal posts.

'And Weasley in the possession of the quaffle – shoots and scores and – hang on, it looks like the Gryffindor seeker's seen something! Is that… I think it is, he's after the snitch!'

He was gaining on it, closer, closer, closer. The snitch was there - right there - he only had to reach it. He knew he had it within him - he knew this was what everything had been building to. Just an inch more, just a jolt further. It's feathers were grazing his fingers and then –

'Shit!'

Something blue and heavy collided with him. He felt his body swing from the broom, barrel-rolling through the air, the hands on his fingers blistering as he clung to the wood.

He pulled himself up sharply, out of the dive, his head spinning and his shoulder throbbing from the impact. The crowd was booing from the stands.

'Near fall from Potter there! Malfoy gave him a good whack! Looked intentional if you ask me!'

He looked around: Scorpius Malfoy was speeding away from him, in pursuit of the shimmering snitch. Albus felt himself flare with anger and it sent him speeding forward.

He was gaining on the blonde, flying better, sharper, more precisely than Malfoy who had only one hand on his broom, the other reaching for the snitch. The Gryffindors were bellowing support from the stands, and the commentator shouted into his microphone: 'Potter's back at it!'

This was enough to startle Malfoy. It was only a second, but he tore his eyes from the snitch, his head swivelling to catch sight of Albus right on his tail, his fingers retracting imperceivably in his distraction, and Albus dived - down towards he earth, hurtling beneath Malfoy, and then up, and his fingers closed on the snitch inches away from Malfoy's, and his whole body seemed to scream with glee, and he heard crowds erupt with applause below him, and then he registered a great pain around his wrist: Malfoy was clawing at his arm, trying to pry the snitch from his fingers.

Somewhere deep within him Albus heard a voice tell him it was okay - that it was over and that he had won, but then a much louder and more convincing voice screamed in his ear: it sounded very much as James sounded when he yelled, and Albus swelled with anger, and he drew back his free hand and punched Malfoy in the face.

The crowd's gasp drowned our Malfoy's yelp of pain. The force of the punch sent them spiralling through the air, and yet Malfoy still clung painfully to his arm. Albus refused to let go; he had caught it, and Malfoy wasn't going to take it, no matter how much pain he inflicted.

'They're going to crash!' screamed the commentator.

And that they did, of sorts. They hadn't been far from the ground, and they hit it with only soft thud, still clinging to each other, the snitch fluttering furiously in Albus's hand. Albus fell back and Malfoy seized the opportunity, scrambling on top of Albus, pulling his fist back to aim for the Gryffindors nose, and then -

'Get off him!'

Scorpius gave a gasp of pain as a boy in red pummelled into him, forcing him off Albus and forcing him to the ground. Albus sat up, his head spinning, looking around to see James on top of Malfoy, pinning him roughly to the ground. Something told Albus he ought to intervene, but the same loud, angry voice screamed in his ear _you won_. He looked down at his fist; the silver wings of the snitch protruded through his fingers, waving weakly.

And then he found himself engulfed. Xan was screaming in his ear, her arms around him. Louis landed beside him, tossing his broom away and pulling him into a hug. Kim and Adam were beside them, clutching hands and yelling with glee. Finlay landed last, scrambling onto the ground, not towards Albus but to James and wrenching him off of Scorpius.

'You did it, Al! You did it!' Xan was yelling.

'You punched Malfoy in the face!' trilled Louis ecstatically.

And then a much sharper, angrier voice cut through them as Madam Robins appeared on her broom, looking furious. 'All of you up! Up and off the pitch!'

They looked around blankly. Somehow, it seemed, none of them were expecting this, despite the bleeding Ravenclaw slumped on the ground a few feet away. Madam Robins swooped down upon Malfoy, clutching his arm and dragging him to his feet. She forced his hand away from his face and raised her wand, giving it a hurried wave. Malfoy gave a grunt of pain and winced away as his nose clicked back into place.

'Right,' said Madam Robins bracingly, still clutching Malfoy roughly by the arm. 'Albus and James Potter, follow me.'

* * *

James Potter received his first detention on his eighth day at Hogwarts when he whipped out his wand, aimed at Caliber Montague, gave it a clumsy wave and recited the words Fred had taught to him.

Scorpius Malfoy received his first detention six months after arriving at Hogwarts, after he failed to turn in his potions homework for the fourth week in a row.

Albus Potter received his first detention that Saturday afternoon in mid-November, two months into his fifth year of school. He had to remind himself that this wasn't unusual; that being dragged into the deputy head master's office to be reprimanded was something that most students experience within their first year or two at school. Albus, however, had never set foot in his head of house's office for any reason other than for afternoon tea.

Sitting rigidly in his chair before Neville's desk, flanked on one side by James and on the other by Scorpius Malfoy, Albus stared into his lap. His hands were folded there, the skin on his right knuckles split from their impact with Malfoy's face. He had never punched anyone before, and his hand was hurting far more than he had anticipated.

'It really is disappointing,' said Neville, for what Albus was sure was the tenth time since they entered his office. 'And the first game of the season, too. This better not become a common occurrence.'

'I'm sure that it won't,' said Professor Karim from beside the door. 'Professor Longbottom, I know it comes down to your decision, but I think seeming Malfoy is in my house it wouldn't be wrong of me to suggest detention and fifty points taken from Ravenclaw.'

'Of course, Professor. And I think Albus and James would do well to receive the same,' said Neville resolutely.

Beside him, James fidgeted with irritation. Albus, however, felt that it could have gone a lot worse.

'The trophy room has built up quite a bit of dust over the summer,' continued Professor Karim. 'Perhaps next week you boys could see to polishing the whole room?'

Neville gave a wry smile. 'Wonderful suggestion, Professor Karim. Well, I suppose if that's sorted there's not much else to say to you three. You can go. I know your teammate's will be waiting for you…'

At that moment there was a rap at the door. Professor Karim exchanged a glance with Neville, before she opened the door to allow Professor Smith to step into the room. Albus thought that he looked very much like a man who was extremely happy but was trying to look extremely troubled.

'Pardon the interruption, Professors,' said Smith, glancing around the room, his eyes lingering on James. 'I don't mean to interrupt. Only I thought you might not have had the time to get the forms – I popped up to retrieve them from the caretaker.'

'And what forms would those be, Zacharias?' said Professor Karim shrewdly, eyeing the three rolls of parchment he was holding under his arm.

'Well, Fahima, I know you've made it a policy to set an example by removing students from the Quidditch team for bad behaviour, so I thought you'd be needing to fill out the form for Mr Malfoy. And seeming I was there, Neville, I thought you might be considering doing the same for your students, due to the violent nature of the offense.'

Neville and Professor Karim were silent as Smith offered the parchment to them. Albus was sure he caught the pair exchange glances before Professor Karim spoke.

'I had no intention of removing Scorpius from the team,' she said. 'I've done so in the past for more serious situations. Trying to retrieve a snitch from your opponent doesn't deserve that.'

'I would call it a little more than that,' said Smith seriously. 'Malfoy attempted to knock Potter off of his broom. Did you not see that? And as for the Potter boys, Albus punched Malfoy in the face.'

'He was trying to defend himself,' said Neville evenly. 'It was a one-time incident. I think we can find fault on all parts, and so I think it would be best if the boys served their time and we moved on. You three can go.'

'One-time incident?' said Smith. 'Certainly, for Albus and Malfoy perhaps, but James has a history of rough play, and I am certain he was responsible for the damage to the Charms corridor in the first week of term. He was undoubtedly out of bounds last weekend in Hogsmeade and yet detentions do nothing to deter him from bad behaviour. I don't know how else you intend to teach his some discipline.'

'Well, luckily, Zacharias, James is in my house and not yours,' said Neville coolly, 'so you have no need to know.'

'Am I the only one who saw Potter attempt to knock David Corner off his broom today?' demanded Zacharias. 'Something he's in the habit of doing. Do you appreciate seeing your students attacked, Fahima?'

Professor Karim was frowning, silent. Smith had apparently struck a nerve. Albus could feel James shaking with anger beside him.

'Professor,' said Karim slowly, glancing at Neville, 'I know it's not my place to say, but, well… Scorpius and Albus don't usually cause these kind of problems. James, however…'

'He was hitting Albus,' growled James, gesturing at Malfoy furiously. 'What am I supposed to do? The game was already over. What's the problem?'

'James,' said Neville evenly, raising a hand to call for silence. 'We all saw what happened. I have no intention of removing you from the Quidditch team. Now, perhaps we could find a more constructive way for you to spend your detention. Albus and Scorpius, you will be responsible for the trophy room. James, you will spend your detention with me. I don't believe we've had time to discuss your plans after graduation; you can explain it to me in three feet of parchment. Now, please, I don't want to keep you any longer. You may go.'

Smith and Professor Karim appeared unable to find any more arguments, and so the three pupils rose from their seats and traipsed out of the room. Once out in the corridor, Smith pulled the door shut after them, and voices could once again be heard between the three teachers. Malfoy started away immediately, storming away down the corridor, leaving James and Albus behind in the silent corridor.

'Good game,' said Albus awkwardly.

James looked at him with sharp, dark eyes. 'Why'd you do that?'

'I… do what?'

'Punch Malfoy?'

Albus had not expected this. He blinked up at James, bewildered. 'I… he was trying to get the snitch.'

'You'd already caught it. The game was won. You shouldn't have done that.'

Albus shook his head. It had seemed so simple at the time but now, standing in his muddy Quidditch robes in the darkened corridor, he truly could not explain the punch. 'I… he just… he made me mad.'

'You could have lost us the game. That could have been a forfeit.'

'He was pulling my arm, and it hurt and… and… Why are you asking me? Why do you care?'

'Are you seriously that thick? They could have called a rematch if they wanted to!'

'You would have done the same thing,' Albus snapped back. 'You rammed into Corner like five times! They gave Ravenclaw a penalty shot because of you!'

'Don't try to pretend to understand Quidditch, Albus, you'll hurt your tiny little brain,' retorted James. 'If you had flown better Scorpius wouldn't have been able to catch up.'

'That's bullshit and you know it,' Albus thundered back. 'I flew well. You know I did.'

'You fly like shit. You always do. You're only the team because Finlay and Xan felt sorry for you.'

Albus was ashamed that he allowed this to sting him. 'You've been flying badly all week.'

James glared at him. 'I could fly with no hands and my arse hanging off the broom and I'd still be better than you.'

'Maybe, but that doesn't mean it wasn't crap,' retorted Albus. 'All week you've been missing passes. What happened to your leg?'

'What?'

'Your leg. You were limping when you got back from Hogsmeade. That's why you've been flying differently and that's why you were late to practice on Sunday. What did you do?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

James turned away and started up the corridor, marching away from his brother, but the younger Potter pursued. He only realised now that he'd been waiting for this; for an opportunity to barrage James, and he was revelling in his righteousness.

'You did something in the village last weekend,' Albus accused, 'and you got hurt. Where were you?'

'Go away, Albus.'

'Tell me it wasn't the fire.'

James came to a halt so suddenly Albus almost crashed into him. He rounded on his brother, his eyes glinting dangerously. 'What did you say?'

'The fiendfyre,' said Albus breathlessly. 'Tell me that wasn't you.'

James moved so quickly Albus almost expected a punch in the face, but instead James seized the front of his robes, dragging him forwards. James glowered down at him, their faces inches from the other's. Albus was often afraid of what his brother was capable of, but he couldn't remember ever being properly frightened of him.

'You think that was me?' James hissed. 'That's what you think?'

Albus seized the anger within him, forcing back the fear, and asked evenly, 'Tell me it wasn't.'

'It wasn't,' said James without hesitation. 'What is wrong with you?'

He relinquished his hold on Albus and the younger boy stumbled back, still staring up at his brother, full of distrust.

'I'm going up to the common room,' James informed him. 'Are you coming up?'

Albus shook his head. 'No.'

'Good.'

And with that James turned and marched away. Albus watched him go, his eyes trained on him until he saw him round the corner and disappear from view. With his anger dissipating, Albus realised suddenly how exhausted he was. He slumped against the windowsill of the corridor, resting his head back on the glass pane, shutting his eyes. He would have very much liked to return to his dormitory to sleep, but he didn't want to have to see James.

'Albus?'

He opened his eyes immediately. Standing before him, in a red sweater and black skirt and her hair long and flowing, was Mei. He straightened up.

'Mei,' he said. 'Hi.'

'Hi,' she said. She was looking straight at him, her dark eyes searching him. He was expecting to be scolded, but instead she said something he never could have imagined her saying: 'Are you okay?'

'Kind of,' he told her earnestly. 'I just had a fight with James.'

'I heard.'

'You heard what we were fighting about?'

'A little,' she told him. 'You were asking what he was doing when he went missing in Hogsmeade last week.'

The thought seemed too horrible to admit to her. 'Yeah.'

'Well, you shouldn't worry.' Her voice returned to her matter-of-fact assurance. 'That fiendfyre would require really powerful magic.'

It was no more than what Rose had told him last weekend, but he was used to Rose lying to him for his own benefit. Something told him Mei didn't do things simply for other people's benefit, and so he appreciated it more than he ever thought he could. 'Okay.'

'You played well today,' she told him.

'I didn't, but thanks.'

'You did,' she refuted. 'You probably didn't need to punch Malfoy in the face, though.'

'No, I probably didn't.'

'But then again, he shouldn't have tried to take the snitch from your hand. Did you get detention?'

'Yeah, net week. Polishing the trophy room with Malfoy.'

'Good,' she said. 'I suppose there'll be a celebration up in your common room.'

'Yeah, suppose so. I don't want to go though.'

Mei nodded. 'Perhaps we should go for a walk then.'

'Yes, perhaps we should.'

Little was said on the subsequent walk. He walked in line with her, and yet somehow he knew she was leading the way. He followed her without protest up to what he was sure was Ravenclaw tower. He had never had any reason to come to that part of the castle, and so the balcony she led him to was one he was unfamiliar with. The afternoon sun hung over the forbidden forest, casting the trees a blackened, olive green. She walked to the edge, leaning against the stone ballistrades, and he joined her.

'Nice view,' he said pointlessly.

'Why did you ask me out?'

He looked at her, taken aback. 'I… I don't know. I guess I just...' He sighed. 'I thought you seemed different. Like... like not like me. I wanted to get to know you.'

Mei nodded. 'Only I was thinking. It can't have only be to ask me about Malfoy to try and get him in trouble, because you had no way of knowing he'd be missing in Hogsmeade until after we'd gotten back.'

'You really thought I'd ask you out just for Quidditch?'

She shrugged. 'I suppose I just don't know you that well yet. I didn't know what to expect. But then I heard what you were saying to your brother – about what he did in Hogsmeade. It made me think you really were asking just because you wanted to know.'

'I was,' he assured her. 'But – but I'm sorry anyway. I shouldn't have asked you. Rose and I just thought – it's stupid. I didn't mean to – to use you. I just… last night, it was making me feel better to talk to you. Practice was so crap and you were making me feel better, and I thought if I could just ask and get it over with then we could talk about something that mattered, and… oh.'

He fell silent. Mei had taken his hand. She was looking at him very strangely. There was something uncertain about it; he didn't think he'd ever seen her be uncertain. She was standing very close to him. He could count the freckles on her face. He could learn the curve of her jaw as she leant in closer to him. He could smell her shampoo as she pressed her lips against his.

* * *

 **Song Credit:** **_Clear Skies_ by the Strokes.**

 **A/N: lol fucking hell. I am such a slow, pointless, terrible writer. I'm not going to pretend that this chapter would have been any sooner or any better (nothing happens _again_ ), but my laptop completely dying did halt production for a while. It's here eventually, for what it's worth.**

 **In case anyone thinks I'm lying, Scorpius and Rose will eventually share scenes where they exchange more than two lines. It will happen. I know it seems unlikely, but it will. I have so, so, so much Scorose written for this fic but I didn't anticipate how long it would take to get to it, and for that I am genuinely sorry. I'd like to say it will be worth it but I don't want to get my hopes up.**

 **If anyone has gotten this far then thank you so much! I would really, really appreciate a review, no matter how short and pointless! Thank you always xx**


	9. Play With Fire

_01/04/2018_

* * *

 ** _Play With Fire  
_** _Well, you've got you diamonds_  
 _And you've got your pretty clothes_  
 _And the chauffeur drives your car_  
 _You let everybody know_  
 _But don't play with me_  
 _Because you're playing with fire_

* * *

'Well, what did you expect?'

These were Zaina Faheem's five favourite words. Spoken in that sequence, she discerned from it a thrilling, righteous pleasure. Or at least that was what Scorpius Malfoy hoped, because if that was not the case she certainly did waste a lot of her breath repeating them.

When the Ministry took his father in for questioning: _Well, what did you expect?_

When students stared at him in the corridors: _Well, what did you expect?_

When he got a D on an essay he wrote in one sitting: _Well, what did you expect?_

When he was given detention on Saturday night polishing trophies with Albus Potter: _Well, what did you expect?_

Even he had to admit she had a point with that one. What _had_ he expected? Was there ever any chance the game would be declared Ravenclaw's if he pried the snitch from Potter's fingers? Of course not.

So, what _did_ he expect?

He supposed he didn't expect much. He wanted the snitch and Potter took it. In itself, it was not all that spectacular. He had wanted many snitches before, and had lost a great deal of them. But on that day – or perhaps it was that week, or perhaps that entire school term – he had wanted so many things that he hadn't received, and it that fleeting moment he knew that ramming his shoulder into Albus Potter would make him feel better.

He arrived for detention late. Potter was already there, dawdling in the corner with his hands in his pockets, waiting for instruction. Mrs MacDougal the caretaker was sitting in musty armchair she had conjured for herself by the door, smoking her pipe, reading a copy of _Witch Weekly_. She looked up from behind her glasses as Scorpius strode into the room..

'You're late, dear,' she told him.

Mrs MacDougal should have been the last person to use terms of endearments for students, but it was apparently so ingrained in her she couldn't help it; Scorpius largely suspected she had begun to do so ironically and had fallen too far into the habit to stop.

'Sorry,' he said. 'I lost track of time.'

'Right, off we go then,' said Mrs MacDougal, clearly uninterested, and she gestured with her pipe around the wide, glistening trophy room. 'Come on, get to work. The trophy polish in the broom closet at the back of the room. You'll find some rags in there. Should only take you a few hours to get through the room. And no magic.'

Scowling, Scorpius set off across the room to leave Mrs MacDougal to return her magazine. He was aware of Potter following him, but knew the Gryffindor was keeping his distance. Not a word was exchanged as they got out their polish and rags and set to work. Scorpius chose to start at the far side of the room, and quite sensibly Potter chose to start as far away from him as was possible.

Scorpius didn't like Potter, but it was not due to his broken nose. As much as he wanted to, Scorpius found he couldn't muster the energy to be bothered about his broken nose; he had started the altercation, and his nose was looking indistinguishable from how it did pre-break.

' _It looks all pointy,'_ Zaina had told him that night in his dormitory.

 _'_ _It's always been pointy,_ ' he reminded her, irritated.

' _Yeah, but even worse.'_

He spent a good part of the next hour mulling over Zaina and fighting to ignore the pain in his shoulder from his scrubbing. As far as he was concerned the trophies were all as clean as they needed to be, and yet he moved from one to the other without complaint, inspecting the names of each recipient emblazoned on the plaques and Quidditch cups. The vast majority had been awarded in 1998 and the years immediately following, relating in some way, however trivial, to services to the school by students who fought in the war or helped to rebuild the castle after the Battle of Hogwarts.

And then, of course, there were the few that pre-existed the war that had been salvaged from the battle. He knew any mention of his grandfather or other former Death Eaters would have been destroyed, but whoever had been responsible for preserving the trophies after the war hadn't extended the purge to the Slytherin Quidditch trophies, many of which featured his father's name.

He thought of his mother's slim, elegant handwriting and what she had said in her letter after Professor Karim had informed her of his detention: _your father says he's very proud._

 _Proud of what?_ Scorpius had asked himself. Proud of him starting a fight with Albus Potter? He had lost the match, so what else did his father have to proud of?

'Oh, what in the bloody hell is _that?'_

Mrs MacDougal's exclamation, coupled with the deafening sound of a shrieking siren that had erupted from somewhere overhead, gave both Scorpius and Potter pause. They straightened up, gazing up at the ceiling, as MacDougal hauled herself to her feet and hurried out of the room to investigate.

Scorpius watched her go. It occurred to him that he could walk out right after her. He had no way of knowing how long it would take MacDougal to return, or if she would at all, or if she would even care if she found him missing. If the trophies were clean when she came back he saw no reason why she would follow up his absence, and he could clean them all with a few flicks of his wand.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand, raising it to aim at the plaque, but before he could make the incantation his attention was caught by a rapid movement across the room. He looked around; Albus Potter was staring at him, looking terrified, clutching his own wand weakly at his side.

Scorpius glared at him across the room. 'What are you doing?'

Potter said nothing, his eyes fixed upon Scorpius's wand which was still clutched in his hand.

'What?' demanded Scorpius. 'You thought I was getting my wand out to curse you?'

Potter gave his head a vigorous shake and gave a weak mutter of, 'No, I didn't.'

'For god's sake,' snapped Scorpius. 'I was going to clean the plaque, or would you rather stay here polishing all night?'

'I… no… I…. sorry.'

 _This_ was why Scorpius didn't like Albus Potter; while all the other members of the Weasley-Potter clan were loud and obnoxious and overly self-assured, Albus Potter was paranoid neurotic who had treated Scorpius like he was a bomb that was about to go off ever since their first day of school.

Scorpius decided in that moment he was going to say what he had been wanting to say for the last five years. 'Can you stop acting like I'm some kind of psychopath? We have to see each other everyday in class. Let's just act normal, okay? I'm not going to try to murder you or anything.'

'I wasn't thinking that,' insisted Potter.

'Everyone does. It doesn't matter. I'd just appreciate it if you got over yourself and stopped being so bloody scared of me.'

For whatever reason, this seemed to strike a nerve within the Gryffindor. Frowning, Scorpius watched him toss his rag into the trophy and turn fully to face him, his arms folded. 'I'm not scared of you,' he informed him.

'Then stop acting like you are.'

'Alright, well, why'd you try to knock me off my broom then?'

'That's Quidditch. It's not personal.'

'Then why'd you try to curse me that night at the end of September?'

Scorpius's eyes narrowed dangerously. ' _Excuse me?'_

'In the corridor after curfew. Mei Zhao interrupted us. You were reaching for your wand.'

'I didn't try to _curse you_ ,' Scorpius snarled. 'How the hell did you get that idea?'

'You reached for your wand! I saw you!'

'Yeah, because you reached for yours!'

'You were glaring at me!'

'Of course I was! I was glaring at everyone! I'd just had my whole common room listening in on a debate as to whether my dad _murdered someone_ or not!'

Albus felt his cheeks redden, but urged himself not to relent. 'Yeah – but – you were blocking my way downstairs!'

'Like I said – I was trying to _talk to you_.'

'What would you want to talk to _me_ about?'

'About my dad's murder investigation, obviously,' said Scorpius furiously. 'I was getting sick of seeing you scuttle away from me whenever we had classes together and I was going to tell you to cut it out, because all this shit between your father and mine has nothing to do with either of us, alright?'

There was a brief silence before, to Scorpius's surprise, he saw Potter give a slow nod and say rather evenly, 'Okay, fine.'

'Okay, good.'

'Good.'

'So, can we please stop talking and clean the trophies and so we can get the hell out of here?'

Albus seemed to hesitate. Scorpius should have known he would be met with resistance; as little as he knew about the Gryffindor, he could discern from the boy's demeanour that until the previous Saturday he had never done anything other than abide by school rules.

Scorpius sighed, thinking of a better argument. He was, however, saved from having to think very long, for at that moment, in a flurry of bushy ginger hair, Rose Weasley burst into the room.

* * *

His hands weren't made for quills. His hands were made for the handles of broomsticks and beer pints and wands poised in a duelling arch.

His mind wasn't made for planning. His mind was made for making things happen. He liked action and movement and yelling. Planning things out prolonged the silence, and James Potter didn't like silence.

He left the deputy headmaster's office at quarter to nine with his wrist aching. Finlay was waiting for him in the library as he had promised. The beater was there under the pretence of working on a potions essay but when James arrived he had a Quidditch magazine propped open before him, upon which James suspected he had been dwelling for some time.

'Evening, Fin.'

Finlay looked up at him and closed the magazine. 'Have fun?'

'Oh, yeah. Loads.'

'What did Neville make you do?'

'Write lines.'

'Seriously?'

'Just about. I had to write a list of possible options for when I finish, and then he made me talk them over with him.'

'And did you have anything to write?'

'Just our travel plans.'

'Right.'

'What? Don't you want to do that anymore?'

'I didn't say that,' said Finlay. 'But there are things I want to do after that.'

'Yeah? Like what?'

'I don't know. All this stuff with Rowle. Makes me think like we should do something.'

'You want to work for the Ministry?'

'I don't know. Maybe.'

James gave a sniff of laughter. ' _Cool_.'

'Don't look at me like that. I still want to go with you. Aren't I allowed to want to do anything else?'

'Whatever,' said James, smirking. 'I gotta go.'

The look on Finlay's face darkened. He picked up his magazine once more and flipped the page so as not to have to look at the Quidditch captain.

'Look, I said I wouldn't ask for your help again,' James implored. 'Are you going to make that face every time I go?'

'Forget it. Just go. How are you gonna get out?'

'The passageway in the west exit.'

'Alright. Don't let MacDougal see you.'

'Nah. She's with Ducky and Malfoy supervising their detention.'

'You're not gonna do anything stupid this time, are you?'

'I didn't do anything _stupid_. These things just happen – it wasn't my fault. If I'm gonna do this then I've got to expect things like this to happen sometimes.'

The look Finlay gave him told him that he wasn't being convincing. Last weekend's Qudditch wins had quelled their animosity, but James knew Finlay well enough to know he had not been totally forgiven. He would secede if it meant wasting time and energy on an argument.

'But I'll be fine. It won't happen again. I'm only going to go for an hour or so.'

'It's a long way to go just for an hour.'

'Whatever. It's better than anything around here. Right, I'm off.'

He got to his feet, giving an exaggerated stretch. His sweater rode up over his hips. He could see from the corner of his eye that the Hufflepuff girls at the next table were eyeing him.

Finlay apparently noticed too, for he rolled his eyes. 'Can you try not to wake us all when you come back to the dorm?'

'I'll see what I can do for you, mate. Go say hi to those birds over there. They look keen for it.'

Leaving Finlay to swivel in his seat to eye the group of Hufflepuffs, James started out of the library towards the west wing.

* * *

When she stepped into the trophy room, both boys turned to look at her, Albus quizzical, Malfoy suspicious.

'Rosie,' said Albus as she reached him, and with a glance towards Malfoy he lowered his voice. 'What are you doing here? MacDougal's going to be back in a minute-'

'No, she won't,' said Rose. 'I cast a screeching charm on a set of scales up on the next floor and locked it in a broom closet. She'll be there for a few minutes at least.'

'Why'd you cast a screeching charm on a set of scales?'

Before replying, she cast a warning look across the room at Malfoy to find him watching them. This was apparently enough to ward him off attempting to eavesdrop, and with a roll of his eyes he returned to polishing an old plaque. She turned back to Albus and said in a whisper, 'It's James.'

Just as Rose had been expecting, Albus looked alarmed. 'James? What's he done?'

'He's sneaking out again. I don't know why, but I heard him telling Finlay in the library.'

'Well, we should stop him.'

Rose did not answer immediately; she had not been expecting this. It wasn't often that Albus showed such a firm sense of initiative. 'How are we supposed to do that?'

'We'll go after him,' said Albus, throwing down his rag. He had a look of certainty about him which wasn't deterred by the look of scepticism she offered. 'Come on, Rosie, please. He can't keep doing this – he's going to do something really, really stupid, and he'll be thrown off the Quidditch team.'

'Well, if that happens that would be his fault, wouldn't it?'

'Yeah, but – but what if he gets arrested or something?'

'I'm sure that won't happen.'

Albus looked annoyed at this. 'Well, why'd you bother telling me if you don't want to do anything about?'

Rose tried not to appear stumped. The simple answer was because she _did_ want to do something about it, but she wasn't prepared to admit to this. 'He's probably already gone by now.'

'Well, we should go after him, then. Did he say anything else about where he was going?'

'Not really. He just said he was going to the west wing to get out,' said Rose. 'There must be passageway there or something.'

'Do you know where?'

'If I did don't you think I would have said so?'

'I know where it is,' came Scorpius's voice from across the room.

Rose and Albus both turned to look at him in surprise. He was watching them from across the room.

'Thank you for inviting yourself into our conversation,' said Rose harshly, before she folded her arms and turned pointedly back to Albus. 'Come on, we need to go before MacDougal comes to check on you.'

'I can go get her now, if that works for you,' said Scorpius lightly from across the room.

Rose's eyes once again snapped dangerously towards Scorpius. 'Do you have a problem or something?'

'No, but it looks like you do. Do you plan to wander around the west wing all evening hoping to stumble across a secret passageway you've never noticed before?'

Rose made to retort, but Albus cut in before she could. 'Can you tell us where it is?'

'I'll show you.'

'No, you won't,' said Rose. 'We're looking for Albus's brother. It doesn't have anything to do with you. Just tell us where it is.'

'And I'll stay here and finish the trophy room? That sounds fun.'

'Just use your wand to clean it; it will only take two minutes, if you know how. MacDougal's not around to watch and then you can go do whatever you like with your evening. Why on earth do you want to come with us?'

'Why don't you want me to?'

'Because this doesn't have anything to do with you,' she retorted. 'This is idiotic. I've given you a free pass to leave detention. You owe me.'

'Well, seeming I wouldn't be in detention if it weren't for _him_ ,' he nodded at Albus, 'I'd say we're even.'

'Look,' he Albus bracingly. 'This is stupid. James is probably gone by now. Can we just go?'

'If Malfoy tells us where the passageway is, then sure,' said Rose.

'I will tell you where it is. As soon as you get off you high horse.'

Albus interrupted Rose once more. ' _Rosie._ Please. Let's just let him come along.'

'Are you serious?'

'What does it matter? We're probably going to get caught anyway. And this way he can't turn us in.'

'Albus,' said Rose, lowering her voice. 'You do realise who this is? Remember what happened in Hogsmeade?'

'Isn't that why we need to prove it wasn't James? We can't do that without Malfoy's help.'

It was quite uncommon for Albus to side with logic, but she had to admit that that's what he was doing. He had, in her opinion at least, been spending far too much time with Mei Zhao since last weekend. Like it or not, she could not think of anything to counter with and so she simply replied, 'Fine.'

Recovering from the momentary surprise at getting his way, Albus turned to Malfoy and said across the room, 'Alright, where is it?'

* * *

The west wing of the castle was close to deserted at that time of night. They walked in silence. Rose Weasley had a brisk, purposeful stride that might have been regal if it wasn't for her folded arms and haughty glare. Albus Potter walked habitually in her wake, hurried and rather ungainly and glancing frequently towards his cousin as if for assurance that he was doing the right thing.

They were, Scorpius decided, an ill-suited pair, particulary for sneaking out of the castle with.

'It's here,' he proclaimed to them when they reached the statue of the one-eyed witch.

'Where?' said Albus.

' _Here_.' He gestured towards the statue.

'I don't see anything,' said Albus.

'Well, you wouldn't, would you? It's a _hidden_ passageway.'

'Well, now would be a good time to make it _unhidden_ ,' Rose drawled.

'Oh, no, don't mention it. I'm happy to help,' he retorted, but nevertheless turned back to the wall and withdrew his wand. ' _Dissendium.'_

Rose and Albus watched keenly as the hump in the witch's back opened to reveal a narrow chute, into which they could see nothing but darkness.

Scorpius turned back to the cousins and took a step back. 'Well, in you go.'

'You first,' said Rose.

'You're the ones who wanted to go in so badly.'

'And you're the passageway expert. I want to know we're not going to get trapped and die in there.'

'It's perfectly safe. My dorm-mates use it all the time.'

'And why don't you?'

'It's safe, trust me.'

'Well, I don't, so that's where we're meeting problems.'

'I'll go,' interjected Albus and he took a step forward. Scorpius looked at him incredulously, and Rose did just the same.

'Al,' she began, 'let him go first.'

When Albus replied, Scorpius was surprised to hear him sounding forceful. 'I'll be waiting all night, then. I'm going after James. You two don't have to come.' And without another word, he ignited the tip of his wand and, holding it aloft, stepped towards the passageway.

'Oh, for god's sake,' sighed Rose, and she too ignited her wand and followed Albus forward.

He allowed them to step inside, their wands aloft, before he followed. The light from their wand-tips illuminated the narrow passageway before them. It was wide enough to allow them through only when they turned on their sides. The stone ceiling was so low that both Scorpius and Rose had to stoop to avoid hitting their heads. The floor was an uneven cobbled mass that he felt himself stumbling upon it as he moved inwards, the hazard of which was only further exacerbated when the entrance resealed itself after them, leaving only the weak lights of their wands to guide them.

Rose looked, with difficulty, over her shoulder to eye him. 'Are you sure this leads out of the castle?'

'Positive.'

'How are you positive if you've never used it before?'

'Because I don't know how else my dorm-mates manage to bring fire whiskey into our room every weekend.'

Rose looked unconvinced.

'We'll find out sooner or later, I guess,' said Albus, trying to sound certain, and he started forward over the uneven floor.

Navigating their way through the passageway proved far more difficult than his dorm-mates had ever led him to believe. There was much stumbling and sliding as they descended through the long, winding tunnel. Albus acted as something of a signal; he was ahead of both of them and would give loud gasps of panic whenever he tripped over a protruding stone or into a impression.

'Right, that's it,' said Rose irritably, after they had been walking for fifteen minutes. 'You need to stop yelling, Al. Someone's going to hear us.'

'I'm not yelling. I just keep tripping. I didn't realise this would be so hard to walk through.'

'Well, let me go first then.'

'Fine. But you'll trip too.'

'But I won't yell about it.'

Scorpius watched as Rose and Albus tried to squeeze past each other, sidling up against the stone walls, grumbling and swearing as they did so. The amusement he was getting out of watching them both struggle wasn't enough to quell his annoyance.

'Are you two going to keep walking or what? This is taking too long.'

'Well, if this passageway wasn't so bloody narrow it wouldn't be so difficult,' snapped Rose.

'This might shock you, but I didn't actually design this passageway.'

'There must be an easier way out of the school,' growled Rose. 'How can James stand this every time he wants to get out?'

'Well, if you'd like to find one, be my guest. You can blame your parents for this.'

'What does that mean?' said Albus.

'Forget it. Start walking,' grumbled Scorpius.

'He's saying it's our parents' doing closing up all the old passageways after the war when the castle was rebuilt,' said Rose. 'They wouldn't have needed to if his family hadn't blasted it apart, though.'

Scorpius didn't know how to reply to this. His dorm-mates usually held their tongue about their curiosity about his father and grandfather, and apart from the odd mistrustful glance he received in the corridors he didn't often have to think of retorts because of his family.

Albus saved him from needing to think of a reply by muttering, 'I think we should just keep walking. I promise I won't yell anymore.'

'Good,' said Rose tersely, and she and her cousin started down the passageway again.

He followed at more of a distance this time. He could turn back; he could let them stumble along the passageway alone to meet whatever was at the other end; he could return to his dormitory and relish in the knowledge that they were both struggling through the darkness bickering with each other. But he knew he wouldn't do that; he had told himself he needed to follow them, and follow them he would.

'Did Finlay go with him?' he heard Albus ask Rose in an undertone.

'No. He was trying to convince him not to go.'

'Maybe we should ask Finlay what he's been doing?'

'He wouldn't tell us.'

'He might. They got into a big fight before last weekend's match.'

'Yes, you told me that. But they've obviously made up since then.'

'Finlay wouldn't cover for him if he was doing something really bad though. Finlay wasn't happy with him the the fire in the village.'

'So it was your brother who started the cursed fire?' interrupted Scorpius.

Both of them whipped around to look at him, Albus timid, Rose venomous.

'We didn't say that,' snapped Rose. 'And it's none of your business anyway.'

'No, but if he set the fire in Hogsmeade I think the teachers might appreciate being informed.'

'If I were you, I'd choose a better place to threaten us than in a confined space when there's two of us and one of you,' snapped Rose.

'He's not threatening us,' said Albus, alarmed. 'You're not, right?'

'No, I'm not. Does she ever get tired of being so self-righteous?'

Albus made to reply, but Rose interrupted. 'Keep walking, Albus. Ignore him.'

Albus did as he was instructed. They walked in silence, winding their way downwards. The temperature was dropping, and he suspected they were making their way under the earth. The stones lining the walls were depleting to be replaced by rough, exposed earth and then, without warning, the passageway ended with a trapdoor above their heads, supporting by a few flimsy-looking planks of wood suspending it in place.

'Where does this come up?' asked Rose.

'Somewhere outside of the castle,' he informed her.

'Obviously. But where?'

'Near the village.'

'You don't even know, do you?'

'Well, we're going to find out, aren't we?' he retorted, and as if to defend himself he raised his wand and flicked it at the trapdoor. It flipped backwards, revealing the evening sky. There was no discernible sound other than the rustling of tree branches in the wind. Placing his wand between his teeth for easy access, he raised his arms to grab the edges of the trapdoor and hauled himself up, digging his feet into the earth to propel himself through.

He climbed out into a clearing, surrounded by a thicket of trees. Gazing around for any clues as to where they had found themselves, he could see nothing other than the young pines that surrounded them. He looked back into the passageway to see Rose and Albus gazing up at him in waiting.

'Come up. We're in the forest.'

' _The forest?'_ squeaked Albus, looking to Rose in panic. 'Rose, the forest!'

'That would be right,' sighed Rose.

She tucked her wand into her pocket and, just as Scorpius had, began to haul herself out into the thicket. Scorpius watched her struggle, very aware that he could over her his hand and very aware that he wasn't planning to. Once out in the clearing she gazed around quickly, before leaning back over the trapdoor and clutching Albus's hand to help him climb up; Scorpius laughed audibly. Albus blushed and Rose ignored him.

There was the sound of scuffling earth and they looked around; the wooden trapdoor was disappearing now that all its occupants had exited. Earth and the undergrowth were sliding back in place to obscure it. The three students looked around at each other.

'Brilliant,' said Rose.

'Yes, what a conundrum,' drawled Scorpius. 'If only there was some way to remember where it was – oh, wait.'

He raised his wand, gave it a lazy flick, and conjured a small red flag. He snatched it out of the air and speared it into the ground above where the trapdoor had been visible a moment before.

'Complex, isn't it?' he said to her.

'Alright, you lead the way then,' Rose told him coolly.

'Where to?'

'To the village. You said we were close by, didn't you?'

He could tell by the look Rose gave him that she knew he had been lying; he, of course, was not going to admit this. He glanced through the thicket of trees; the undergrowth was thick on the forest floor, all for one narrow pathway that looked as if it had been trampled down by other students leaving the castle. He started along it, Rose and Albus following him.

'So where should we look?' Albus asked his cousin. 'The Three Broomsticks? The Hog's Head?'

'London, perhaps,' said Rose.

' _London?_ ' snapped Scorpius.

'We're not going to find him, Al,' Rose informed her cousin. 'He'll have gone off just like he did the day in Hogsmeade.'

'You've got to be joking,' growled Scorpius. 'We came all this way and you don't even know where to look for him?'

'Nobody forced you to come,' Rose told him coolly. 'You can go back if you like.'

He gave no reply, by way of giving his assent. Without another word, the continued along the path. Despite Albus's jumping at every bird call and his frequent glances through the trees, it was apparent that they were not in the depths of the forest; the trees were too young. It took them no less than ten minutes to make it to the outskirts of the village; they stood on the sloping hill, looking down into the nestle of cottages, shivering in the dusk chill.

'Alright, where should we look first?' asked Rose.

She said it in a way that told Scorpius she neither cared nor believed their search would be fruitful, but to Albus's credit he managed to appear hopeful by suggesting they make their way first to the Three Broomsticks, then to the Hog's Head, and then to the smaller bars around the village. They were too cautious to venture inside, not wanting to be spotted by the bartenders or any teachers out for a drink, and so merely attempted to peer through each window in search of James. They searched largely in silence, growing colder and more irritable as they did.

 _What did you expect?_ said Zaina's voice in his ear. This was enough to keep him searching; he had set out to find something, and he intended to do so, and yet after an hour of searching they had seen no glimpse of James Potter.

'It's getting cold, Al,' said Rose as they strode along one of the village's back roads. 'We should go back.'

Albus appeared not to have the energy to protest. He looked sullen as they once retraced their steps up the hill and into the edge of the forest. They followed the trail back to the trapdoor. There was nothing to say to each other, which Scorpius was pleaded about. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind; he tried to tell himself it wasn't guilt, but he knew there was no other apt term for it.

His conjured red flag was waving feebly in the breeze. He plucked it out of the earth and tossed it aside, aiming his wand at the patch on undergrowth at his feet. ' _Dissendium.'_

There was no movement from the trapdoor. He refused to look up and see Rose and Albus watching him, and so he tried again for much the same result.

Rose stepped forward, her wand aloft. ' _Dissendium_.'

Her charm was no more successful than Scorpius's had been.

'Well done,' he said to her.

She ignored him and raised her wand once more. ' _Aparecium.'_

Again, nothing.

' _Reducto_ ,' he grumbled. This, at least, caused some movement; three young ferns were blasted apart and earth burst upwards, leaving a hole at their feet, but no trapdoor visible.

'Spectacular,' snapped Rose, kicking the sprayed earth off of her boots.

'Well, you try something then,' he snapped at her.

' _Alohomora,'_ offered Albus feebly. Scorpius laughed mirthlessly at its uselessness.

'How do your housemates get back in?' Rose demanded of him.

'If I knew don't you think I'd try it?'

'They told you about the passageway but not how to get back in? You must be popular.'

'Knowing how highly people think of you, Weasley, I'm not too bothered about your perception of social status.'

'It mustn't be too hard,' said Albus weakly. 'James sneaks out all the time.'

'Yes, but there must be a password, and we don't know it,' said Rose.

Albus looked down at the earth. 'Open, please.'

Scorpius forced another disparaging laugh. However, it didn't find it particularly funny; standing in the blackness and cold of the winter's evening, he was feeling far less confident about the safety of their surroundings as he had when they first emerged.

'Oh, shut up, Malfoy,' snapped Rose. 'Patentibus.'

'Reveal yourself,' offered Albus.

'Ipsum revelare,' said Rose.

'This is your idea?' Scorpius demanded. 'We're going to freeze to death out here.'

'Well, it's hardly our fault you followed us out,' retorted Rose. 'You're the one who said you knew how to get in and out.'

'And how was I supposed to know we'd need a password?'

'By using logic, maybe? Of course there's going to be some form of security.'

'Oh, you anticipated this, did you?'

'I stupidly believed you actually knew what you were doing.'

'Do you know what it is that I don't like about you, Weasley?'

'No, and I don't care to find out.'

'You think you're above everybody.'

She let out a sharp burst of laughter. 'And you're as black as a kettle.'

'And you're not nearly as witty as you think are.'

'Stop it, you guys,' said Albus weakly.

'You should be thanking me,' snapped Scorpius. 'I don't owe you two anything, and I've just wasted my evening searching for your idiot cousin.'

'Thank you? For getting us trapped out in the Forbidden Forest in the dark?' demanded Rose.

'Guys, please shut up,' insisted Albus.

'Stay out of it, Albus,' warned Rose, but Albus caught her arm and tucked her towards him.

'Seriously, Rose, I can hear something coming,' he hissed at her, gazing through the trees into the darkness. 'Can you hear it?'

They fell silent. Albus was correct; footsteps were approaching. With one panicked look between them, they extinguished the light of their wands and stumbled away from the passageway into the thicket of trees, ducking low into the shrubby undergrowth. It was a pathetic hiding place; they were bound to be found by whatever creature was coming towards them. Scorpius readied his wand at his side, thinking desperately of the short list of defensive charms he knew.

And then, over the sound of trudging footsteps, voices reached them; young, human, familiar voices. He glanced across at Rose and Albus; Rose gave her head the smallest of shakes, signalling for them to remain still.

'Yeah, I mean, Tessa Mishra and Lydia Thomas are fit but our year really missed out on any of the good birds.'

'Two words: Roxanne Weasley.'

'Seriously, Caliber? You like the blood-traitor slag?'

Through the trees, wand-light was flickering as the boys drew closer. It was hard to make out their faces through the trees, but Scorpius recognised at least two from their voices; Caliber Montague and Laertus Zabini.

'I reckon you lot ended up with some good ones in your year,' said Caliber. 'Zaina Faheem. Chandra Thomas. Marisa Nott, too.'

'Marisa's a bitch,' came the voice of Clement Rosier as the four Slytherins stepped into the clearing. 'Stuck up as hell.'

'Same with Faheem. She's going out with that snivelly little git, after all,' said Edmund Goyle.

Caliber Montague laughed as he stepped forward over the space where the trapdoor was concealed. From beside him, Scorpius could feel Rose crane forward ever so slightly in an attempt to see what Montague was doing with his wand, but he had his back to them. If an incantation was involved then Montague cast in non-verbally, for he got back to his feet without another word. The trapdoor had reappeared.

'Alright, in you go,' he said to the two fifth-years.

'Are you gonna tell us how to get back in?' asked Rosier.

'Why? You're not gonna need to meet them without us.'

'You don't know that,' protested Goyle, annoyed.

'Trust me, we do,' chortled Zabini. 'Besides, didn't you listen to August? He doesn't want to see us again until Christmas.'

In the dim light of their wands, Scorpius could make out Goyle and Rosier scowling, but they gave no further protest. He watched as they climbed through the trapdoor, followed by Montague and Zabini. The clearing was once again plunged into darkness as the trapdoor slammed shut after them, and once again the undergrowth slid back into place to conceal it.

Albus jumped to his feet and started forward, as if to reach the trapdoor before it disappeared, but Scorpius lunged forward to catch his arm. ' _Don't_.'

'Let go of him,' snapped Rose, getting to her feet.

Rolling his eyes, Scorpius obeyed and stepped out of the shrub back into the clearing. 'Do you really want to drop down into the tunnel right behind those four? You think they want to know we heard them talking?'

'Why? Aren't you all childhood friends?' asked Rose snidely.

'In case you didn't pick up on it, they're not my biggest fans. Didn't you hear? I'm a snivelly little git.'

'Well, do you care to explain what you were doing with them on the first night of term?' asked Rose.

' _What?_ '

'The first night back of term. In the passageway near the Charms room. Albus had told me all about it, so don't bother denying it.'

Scorpius rounded on Albus. 'You mean when they caught you and your brother eavesdropping?' he demanded. 'Were you even listening to what I was saying? I told them I didn't want anything to do with them and they haven't spoken to me since. Have you ever seen me hang out with any of them?'

Albus was looking thoroughly dejected at having been brought into the argument. 'Er… I… not really, no.'

'Exactly. They're not my friends. Do you even remember what happened that night? You don't think it was a bit convenient that right before they were going to curse you the corridor decided to explode?'

Albus's eyes widened. 'That was _you?_ '

'Of course, it was. Who else do you think it was?'

'So… so you were trying to…'

'Well, I wasn't going to let them curse someone, obviously,' said Scorpius briskly.

'So you really don't know what they were up to?'

'Of course not, and I don't want to find out. But just by the way, if I _did_ want to find out what they were up to I wouldn't go about it by hiding behind tapestries waiting to get cursed, okay?'

'So what's all that about?' asked Rose, gesturing at the earth in the centre of the clearing. 'What were those four doing sneaking out?'

'Probably the same shit James Potter is doing. How should I know? Frankly, I don't care at the minute, seeming I'm out here without a coat and it feels like it's about to start snowing.'

'We could walk back to the school gate,' offered Albus weakly. 'Wait for the prefect patrol to go past and let us in?'

'What, so we can get detention? No, thank you,' snapped Scorpius.

'Well perhaps if we wait by the gate we might see Hagrid. He wouldn't turn us in.'

'The prefects will find us long before Hagrid does,' said Rose. 'There's no point standing here discussing it, though.'

'So where exactly do you propose we go?' demanded Scorpius.

'We could rent a room at the Three Broomsticks,' suggested Albus.

'They don't rent rooms to students. Didn't you know that?' snapped Scorpius. 'There's that other dump we looked for your brother in today – the Hog's Head.'

'Not there,' said Albus quickly.

'Why not?'

Albus cheeks reddened and Rose answered for him. 'Our parents know the inn-keeper.'

'Oh, for God's sake,' sighed Scorpius impatiently. 'Would you rather have mummy and daddy send you a howler or would you rather sleep in the woods all night?'

'What about patronuses?' suggested Albus. 'We could do that message thing, right? Ask Chandra or Xan to come down the tunnel and let us back in?'

Scorpius burst out laughing. 'Right, and you know how to cast a corporeal patronus? Let alone a messenger patronus? That's NEWTs stuff.'

'At least I'm trying to think of something,' said Albus.

'Well, forgive me if the things you're thinking of are shit.'

'Oh, I am _sick of this_ ,' hissed Rose. 'Albus, come on. We're going to the gate and waiting for someone to let us in. Malfoy can stay here and freeze to death if he likes.'

'Enjoy getting expelled, Weasley,' Scorpius shot at her.

'Enjoy hypothermia, Malfoy.'

'If you two get caught you are _not_ telling them I snuck out with you.'

'No problem, although I think your parents might appreciate having your body returned to them.'

'God, do you ever run out of stupid comebacks?'

'Well, no, she doesn't actually.'

In an instant, the three of them whipped around upon the newcomer. There before them, his dark face only just discernible in the moonlight, stood James Potter, with his wand drawn and his hair characteristically dishevelled and his lip bleeding. He was grinning at them.

'What the hell are you two doing out here? Why are you with Malfoy?'

Albus seemed unable to formulate I reply. 'I… You… Where have you been?'

James's grin broadened. 'I asked first. Did you do something naughty, Ducky?'

'We were trying to buy mead but they wouldn't serve us,' said Rose. 'Your turn, James.'

'Ah, the tragedy,' sighed James, ignoring the question. 'You should have asked me. I'd never let a member of my family go sober against their will.'

'Can we continue this conversation back in the tunnel?' piped up Scorpius.

James looked at him, unimpressed, before turning back to Rose and Albus. 'What's with this prat?'

'The Ravenclaws know where the passageway is,' said Rose, 'but we didn't know we'd need a charm to get back in. What happened to your lip?'

James once again ignored the question. He stepped forward and aimed his wand at the ground, giving it a lazy twirl. ' _Sit laus Regis Edward_.'

Just as it had for Mulciber, the undergrowth began to withdraw, rippling back to allow the wooden trapdoor to rise to the surface, dislodging the earth around it. James leant forward to haul the door open. 'In you hop, kids.'

'Praise King Edward?' Rose asked of him.

'Teddy,' chortled James. 'He and his mates stole the map off Dad before their first year and memorised where all the old passageways used to be. The map hasn't been updated, see. They spent ages trying to reopen them all but it didn't really work. This one used to come up in Honeydukes, but they couldn't make it work, so instead they redirected it out here. It's probably the easiest one to get through though, so long as you're thin enough. All the passwords are similar.'

'Modest, is he?' drawled Scorpius. He stepped forward to climb into the passageway to find James impeding his path, twirling his wand lazily in his fingers.

'What do you say?' James asked, looking towards Rose and Albus. 'Who wants to see Malfoy sleep in the woods?'

'You can't do that,' protested Scorpius.

'Funny thing, Malfoy, is that I can do whatever I like. Didn't anyone tell you that?'

'James,' sighed Rose, 'I'm cold.'

'Oh, you two go ahead. I don't want to keep you.'

'James…' said Albus feebly.

'Yes, Ducky?'

'I think we should get back to the castle.'

'Yes, I concur. Enjoy your evening, Malfoy.'

'James,' said Albus again, this time forceful enough to attract James's raised eyebrows. 'Stop it.'

'But, Al, the problem is I don't really like it when people try to knock my Quidditch team off their brooms. Even if it is my most useless player, like you.'

'You tried to knock all of our chasers off theirs,' Scorpius protested.

'Albus did break his nose, James,' Rose reminded him. 'I think you guys are even.'

At this, James began to laugh. 'Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me. You can't even tell it was broken, Malfoy. I might need to do it again.' And he raised his wand.

There was a flurry of movement as Albus stepped forward, placing himself between Scorpius and hit brother, glaring up at the older Potter.

'Ducky, what's this?' asked James, sounding delighted. 'You two friends now? Bonded over detention?'

'You're being a dick, James.'

'You can sleep out here if you like too, Al.'

'James,' said Rose calmly, stepping towards her cousin. 'There's two of us and only one you.'

James raised his eyebrows. 'Hear that, Malfoy? You don't count, apparently.'

'James,' said Rose venomously.

Only with this did James's smile disappear. Scowling now, he stepped aside and dropped himself down through the trapdoor. Apparently, Scorpius surmised, James depended on a willing audience for his entertainment.

Rose and Albus climbed through the trapdoor and Scorpius followed them. James had already made a hasty start down the passageway, the light of his wand distant down the winding tunnel. The trapdoor sealed itself over their heads and the three fifth-years illuminated their wands, starting their climb up the sloping passageway through the depths of the castle.

Climbing upwards posed a whole new set of problems. While they were no longer slipping and sliding over the uneven stones as they climbed up, it took a lot more effort to pull themselves up than to lower themselves down. The ascent added a good fifteen minutes to their walk, and when they finally reached the west wing of the castle they had been walking for almost forty minutes. Tired, aching, panting, and thoroughly unimpressed by each other's company, they said nothing to each other as Scorpius departed for his common room and the Gryffindors left for theirs.

Zaina was waiting in his dormitory, as she often did. His dorm-mates were down in the common room playing gobstones, promising their solitude. She was lying in his four-poster reading, and she looked up when he entered.

'You've been gone a while,' she said.

It wasn't an accusation; it was very nearly sympathetic. He realised suddenly how pleased he was to see her; it wasn't often he felt any sort of comradery with his housemates, but after an evening with Rose Weasley and Albus Potter, Zaina was blissfully familiar.

He pulled off his shirt and trousers without a word and climbed into his four-poster. She was wearing only her underwear and as he settled down beside her she laced her arms around him.

'I missed you,' he told her.

'You did?'

'Yeah.' And he wasn't even lying - not yet, at least.

'How was detention?'

Now the lies were to begin. 'Fine.'

'It must have taken ages.'

'Yeah, it did. There are a lot of trophies. I'm tired now.'

'You look it.'

'Do you mind if we just sleep?'

'No, that's okay.'

'Thanks.'

She kissed his cheek and leant over to his bedside table to extinguish the lamp. Laying back down beside him, she ran her manicured nails through his hair.

'Scorpius?'

'Yeah?'

'Why are there leaves in your hair?'

* * *

It was nearly one in the morning when they finally found themselves alone in the common room. The clouds outside had been drawing in since they returned to Gryffindor tower and now snow was falling outside the window, slowly and feebly. Rose found herself gazing at it, her book lying neglected in her lap.

She heaved a sigh and looked across at the armchair opposite hers where Albus was scribbling in journal. 'Well, tonight was a colossal waste of time,' she said to him.

'I don't know,' said Albus vaguely. 'At least we know Malfoy didn't have anything to do with Hogsmeade.'

Rose gave a sharp laugh. 'Why? Because he said so? Of course he was going to say that.'

'He stopped the Slytherins cursing me and James at the beginning of the year,' said Albus. 'And you heard the Slytherins talking about him tonight: obviously they don't like him very much.'

'Just because the Slytherins don't like him doesn't mean you should trust him,' Rose informed him.

'I know but I just… I can't explain it but I just do. I mean, he's up himself and all that but – but he stopped me from going in after the Slytherins, remember?'

'That's not exactly a great sacrifice.'

'Before you came into the trophy room he was talking about his dad. I think it bothers him.'

'It would bother me too if my dad was under investigation for murder. That's not some mark of sainthood.'

'It must be hard though,' said Albus slowly. 'Having everyone know so much about his dad and his family.'

Rose pursed her lips, but decided not to protest any further. Instead she moved onto the more pressing matter at hand. 'James's lip was bleeding when we saw him.'

Albus nodded solemnly. 'Yep, I noticed. I checked the evening _Prophet_ to see if there was any more vandalism or anything, but nothing.'

'And he came into the clearing from the wrong direction. He wasn't coming from the village. Did you notice that?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, that probably means Malfoy did too.'

'Is that a problem?'

'I don't like that he wanted to come with us,' said Rose. 'It's strange. The only thing I can think of is if he turns James over the teachers and makes it look like it was him that set the fire in Hogsmeade, then Malfoy can get away with it.'

'You really think Malfoy would do that?'

'I don't know why you're so sceptical. It wasn't that long ago that you detested him, Albus.'

'I know. I just… I don't know. I feel bad for him, I guess.'

'Well, I don't like him.'

'Neither do I. I just don't think he's as bad as I thought he was. Or at least I think I kind of get why is that way.'

There wasn't much to say after that. Rose turned back to the window to watch the snow falling, thicker and faster now. She pushed her hair back from her face and got to her feet, bidding Albus goodnight.

Back in her dormitory, each of the other girls she shared the room with were sleeping. Chandra's had her cat curled up at her feet. Rose considered waking her to explain what had transgressed that evening, but decided it could wait until the morning. She pulled off her jeans and boots and climbed into bed in her t-shirt, leaving the curtains of her four-poster posted to offer a view of the snow falling outside their window.

She didn't like that out of she and Albus, she was the one who was suspicious. She didn't like that she was the one loathing Malfoy. She had tried so hard all her life to dispel the distrust her parents had tried to teach her of his family but, pained as she was to admit it, it appeared that had been right. He was not to he trusted.

* * *

 **Song Credit: _Play With Fire_ by the Rolling Stones.**

 **A/N: Oh wow, something actually happens in this chapter. Rose and Scorpius actually like know each other now? Kind of? Amazing. I could have just started this whole story here, but whatever.**

 **Thank you so much for reading as always! I'm amazed people are patient enough to get through all the drivel I write, and for that I'm eternally grateful! If you could take the time review I'd really appreciate it! xx**


	10. Rage Flows

_24/04/2018_

* * *

 ** _Rage Flows  
_** _Bad weather, pain and tension  
_ _The young girl in the mirror  
_ _Checking out her scars  
_ _But she's never going to live  
_ _One second of life  
_ _Until she lets the rage flow  
_ _Swaps it for the paranoia_

* * *

She was late leaving her dormitory, as she often was. Evenings usually found it empty as Chandra would be with Connor Davies, and Elena, Sue and Kim would be out somewhere. She liked those hours; she liked being alone.

Descending the stairs to the common room, she found it was packed to the brim with students. It was the last night of term, which always gave way to some form of activity in Gryffindor tower. This evening James and Finlay lad snuck in a cask of fire whiskey and were sharing it around the sixth and seventh years. She hurried through the crowd, not wanting to be seen by Xan or Finlay who she knew would coax her into drinking, and climbed out of the portrait hole.

'Weasley.'

She looked around. There, at the end of the passageway getting to his feet, was Scorpius Malfoy. It had been almost a month since the evening they had spent looking for James, and it seemed that it had given rise to a mutual attempt to pretend the other didn't exist.

She considered turning on her heel and walking away, but suspicion held her in place. 'What are you doing here?'

'I've been waiting for you and Potter to leave the common room. We need to talk.'

'Well, Albus is in the library and I'm late for prefect duty, so it's a nice offer but goodbye.'

She turned away and started along down the corridor. In her curiosity she wasn't at all determined to leave it there, and so when she heard his hurried footsteps start after her she made no attempt to evade him.

'We have a problem,' he hissed at her. 'About what happened in November.'

'Lots of things happened in November. You'll have to be more specific.'

'For fuck's sake, Weasley, I'm serious.'

'Fine. But be quick about it, I need to go.'

'Not here,' he told her irritably, and he gestured for her to follow him. She did so, but not before closing her hand around her wand in her pocket. He led her down the first flight of stairs and ducked into the first empty classroom he found, and she followed him inside.

'So, what?' she asked.

'Shut the door.'

'Oh, for Merlin's sake.' She did as he asked, rolling her eyes. 'What's the terrible problem?'

Scorpius perched himself on the professor's desk. She noticed now, looking at him closely, that he appeared anxious. His pointed face was even more sallow than usual, dark bags hanging under his eyes.

'Zaina's been asking about that night,' he informed her. 'She wants to know where I was.'

Rose was silent for a moment, frowning in thought, before she said slowly, 'That sounds more so like _you have_ a problem, rather than _we_ have a problem.'

'Keep telling yourself that, because she says if I don't tell her where I was she's going to the teachers.'

Rose raised her eyebrows. 'Is she your girlfriend or your master?'

'Don't think she won't. She's been going on about it for weeks.'

'God, Malfoy, do you really need me to solve this for you? Tell her you were in detention.'

'I _did_ tell her that. She doesn't believe me. She thinks I was out in the grounds with some girl.'

'Well, how did she get to the conclusion?'

'There were leaves in my hair.'

Rose gave a sniff of laughter. 'Well done.'

'It's not funny! If she turns me over I'm not taking the blame alone.'

'Why can't you just tell her you snuck out of the castle and explain you came looking for James?'

'She won't believe that. Why would I want to find James Potter?'

'Very good question. Why did you?'

'That's not the point.'

'Fine. Goodbye, then.' And with that Rose turned back to the door and pulled it open, only to have it snap shut again in front of her. She rounded on Malfoy to find him aiming his wand at the door.

'Don't point your wand at me,' she warned him.

'I'm pointing it at the door, not at you.' But he never the less stowed it away in his pocket. 'I want you to tell Potter that he needs to tell her we were in detention the whole time.'

'Why should we do any favours for you when you can't tell us why you followed us out of the castle?' she asked him. 'Why did you want to know where James was?'

Scorpius hesitated, scrutinising her from across the room before he looked away. 'If you must know I was hoping to turn him over and get him taken off the Quidditch team.'

'I don't believe you.'

'Why not? It's the truth.'

'Because if that was true you would have gone to the teachers already.'

'Well, I changed my mind, okay? I'd rather win the House Cup properly. I know you love being right, Weasley, but it's not that big of a mystery.'

'Like I said, I don't believe you, so I guess there's no point discussing it,' she informed him. 'I'm leaving now, and I'm getting my wand out so don't try and stop me.'

He heeded her warning and gave no further protest as she took out her wand and left the room. She hurried down the stairs through Gryffindor tower. She was properly late now, and she was furious. She was furious with Scorpius Malfoy for being the way he was, but more so she was furious with herself for letting herself dwell on it; she was used to having people at school degrade her, but it was the audacity of Malfoy to deceive them and then expect them to help him.

Because whatever he said, she knew he didn't want James off the team; he was after something, and she wanted to know what it was.

'You're late.'

She didn't know why Mei Zhao bothered to say this anymore; she had been late to every prefect patrol since the beginning of term.

'I was studying,' she replied, as she did every time Mei critiqued her tardiness.

'Well, then we'll need to do an extra five minutes at the end of shift.'

They had this conversation every week. 'Well, you can go and I'll do the extra five minutes alone.'

Mei pursed her lips and they started walking.

'We need to be extra cautious of kids sneaking out,' Mei told her after fifteen minutes of silence. 'My common room was mad; it's always like that on the last day of term.'

Under other circumstances, Rose probably would have given some form of retort; this evening, however, she held her tongue. The opportunity had presented itself.

She turned to Mei and said as loftily as she could, 'I was talking to Hamish the other day and we both think we need to do something about students leaving the common room after curfew. What do the Ravenclaw prefects do about it?'

'We don't really have that problem,' said Mei. 'Traditionally Ravenclaws have always been better behaved the Gryffindors.

'Well, I've definitely seen Malfoy out after curfew,' said Rose. 'Have you ever asked him where he goes?'

Mei was silent for a moment in thought before she replied matter-of-factly, 'You're unbelievable, Weasley.'

'Pardon me?'

'You're still trying to get Malfoy thrown off the Quidditch team. First you force Albus into asking me about it and when you're not satisfied with his attempt you decide to badger me.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.'

'Well, forget it: I'm not helping you get him in trouble. I'd prefer it if we just finished the patrol in silence.'

'Fine with me.' And they did just that.

* * *

Patience was not something that came easily to Dominique Weasley. She was passive and submissive and timid and impressionable, but she had a huge capacity for frustration, and nothing made her more frustrated than waiting.

 _One hour_ , she told himself as she scribbled upon the memos before her. _One hour and that's it_.

She had a two-week break over Christmas. It wasn't much, but for somebody who loathed their job as Dominique loathed hers, it was an exponential blessing. The two-weeks would be dominated by applying for new jobs and finding a flat to move into, or at least that's what she told herself. Something in her life needed to change, and seeming she had been unable to change herself in all of her eighteen years, it would need to be her job and living situation.

'What are you writing so furiously?'

She dropped her quill at the sound of Teddy's voice. That type of response was something that she definitely needed to change, but it was perhaps the thing she most incapable of. She looked up at him; his hair was long today, reaching his shoulders and coloured Hufflepuff canary yellow.

'Just memos,' she told him hurriedly. 'How are you?'

'Bored,' he sighed. 'They've delayed most of our projects until the Ministry starts up again after the break. I'll be on call though, but there's not much to do other than sit around waiting.'

She gave him a sorry smile as he sat down upon her desk. 'That sounds dull.'

'It is. So I've been shopping.'

'Oh, that's nice.'

'It is. And I got you a present.'

 _'_ _Me?_ '

'Don't look so surprised. I'm not that bad of a friend, am I?'

'No, of course not… only...'

 _Only Victoire_.

'…only I didn't get you anything,' she told him.

'Forget it. You're busy lately, what with all the Wizengamot bullshit.' He reached into the pocket of his trousers and withdrew a small, red box, wrapped in a gold ribbon. He set it down on the table before her, smiling. 'Here: you deserve it.'

'Oh, Teddy,' she said, picking the tiny box up in her hand. 'I don't want to open it. It's so pretty.'

'If I had known that I would have just gotten you the box and saved the galleons. Come on, Dom, open it.'

Gingerly, she set the box back down on the table as if she was handling something very fragile. With shaking hands she undid the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box, to reveal a delicate gold chain, adorned with a gleaming ruby pendant. She lifted it out of the box, gazing up at the gemstone.

 _Don't cry_ , she told herself furiously.

She cleared her throat. 'Oh, Teddy…'

'Do you like it?'

'I love it.'

'Put it on then.'

She tried to but, looping the chain around her neck, she found her hands too unsteady to do up the clasp. Teddy got to his feet and moved behind her chair. She felt his gentle hands sweep her hair back and her skin erupted in goose bumps. His warms fingers grazed her spine as he fastened the necklace.

'There,' he said, stepping around to face her. 'Looks good.'

'I feel terrible,' she said in a small voice. 'I don't have anything for you.'

'Just promise you'll stay all the way through the evening at Christmas, okay?'

Guilt sprung upon her. For the last few years, she had usually snuck off during dinner at the Burrow, inventing some lie about needing to meet friends. She didn't have any friends close enough to want to spend Christmas with her,, and would instead return to Shell Cottage to relish in her solitude, leaving Teddy and Victoire at the Burrow with the rest of the family.

'Okay, I promise,' she told him.

'Good. So what's happened when the Wizengamot convened? Did Rowle's laws go through?'

Dominique bit her lip. 'I'm not supposed to say. Harry hasn't made a statement for the press yet.'

'Oh, right. I was just wondering.'

'Well, you can't tell anyone,' she said, lowering her voice so nobody else in the busy room could hear. 'The changes to the Hogwarts curriculum were rejected, but the lock-out laws went through. No groups of four or more in Magical towns and no more than two people out together after one in the morning.'

Teddy looked aghast. 'That's insane. That's an invasion of human rights.'

'He justified it to the Wizengamot by saying it's only temporary,' said Dominique glumly. 'Only until the Ministry finds out what's going on with the anti-Pureblood stuff.'

'What's to find out? People hate Rowle and the other fascists. No big mystery.'

'Teddy,' said Dominique, trying to sound stern. 'A lot of people got hurt in Hogsmeade.'

'Well, yeah, but that might not even be connected to the vandalism. If people want to protest Rowle then they should be allowed to.'

Dominique remained silent. It was hard not to agree with Teddy.

'So, anyway,' he continued, 'let's talk about something more uplifting. Do you get any time off for Christmas?'

'Yep, two weeks.'

'Nice one. Does the whole Auror Office close?'

'It's supposed to, yeah.'

'But what about the field officers? Are they on call?'

'Yep, same as you. Plus, Harry will have a few stationed at the homes of the Head of Departments and the Minister's staff. Just to keep the media happy, basically.'

'He thinks of everything, doesn't he? So how many memos have you got left?'

'Just a few.'

'How about you finish them in the pub and I buy you a drink?'

'Oh, Teddy, I shouldn't.'

'Yeah, but at the same time you definitely should.'

It wasn't possible. She told herself it wasn't possible. Teddy had been with Victoire since he was fifteen years old. She was the only girl he had ever loved. They were made from each other, forged from the same matter. What right did Dominique have to intervene?

And yet, here was Teddy, standing before her, his eyes watching her unwaveringly, his pendant hanging from her neck, begging her to leave with him. If this wasn't fate, then what was?

'Well, alright,' said Dominique quietly. 'But you can't tell anyone.'

'Of course not.'

She got to her feet to stuff the memos into her bag and pulled on her cloak. She turned back to Teddy to inquire where he wanted to go, but found, all at once, the atmosphere of the room had changed. Amongst the business of her co-workers darting around and the babble of conversation, some soft quiet had come over the office. Heads were turned in the direction of the door and the conversation had quietened. This was what happened when Victoire stepped into a room.

She was in the doorway, wearing black trousers that hugged her hips and cream woollen jumper. Dominique was sure she had seen the exact same outfit on the cover of this month's _Witch Weekly._ Victoire was smiling as she approached them; the other occupants of the room seemed to fall away as she passed them, standing aside to gaze at her fully. She reached Teddy and laced her fingers through his hair, giving him a deep, awful kiss, before she finally spared a glance for her sister.

'What's the matter with you, Dommy?' inquired Victoire, in her sickly-sweet drawl. 'Are the memos giving you trouble?'

Dominique did not reply. The world was falling back into place; the awful truth of her existence blatant once again.

'She's a bit busy actually,' said Teddy. 'And I should really be getting back to work.'

Dominique looked up at him. He was lying – lying to Victoire – for her: for Dominique.

Victoire pouted. 'Busy, are you, darling?'

'Yeah. Sorry, love.'

'Mhmm. So busy you can find the time to pester my sister during work hours?'

Teddy hesitated, but only for an instant, and then he began to laugh. Dominique's heart was pounding with fear; fear of what she wasn't exactly sure, but she somehow knew what she had done was wrong, even if it was only accepting a necklace.

'Come on; stop making up excuses and take me to lunch,' said Victoire. 'Or have you emptied your bank account again? Is that it?'

Teddy grinned at her. 'You got me.'

'Oh, you naughty boy. Well, I forgive you. Come on, I'll pay. Dominique, you need sleep, darling. You look awful.'

And without another word, she bid her sister and kiss and took Teddy's hand, leading him towards the door. Victoire did not spare Dominique another glance, but, her heart pounding in her chest, Dominique caught Teddy glance back over her shoulder to look at her.

* * *

Godric's Hollow in the winter looked like a town from a picture book; snow over thatched rooves and ice frozen beneath the cracks in the cobblestones and naked birch trees lining the roads. The wisteria that obscured Hecate Hall's façade has shrivelled away in the winter, and the messy, overgrown front garden was coated in a sheet of white.

The house always smelt the same when he returned to it; like his father's aftershave and his mother's perfume and the Darjeeling in the kitchen. It was silent when they stepped inside, but the arrival of James and Lily disrupted that.

'He's not that good.'

'He's a better flyer than you were when you were his age!'

'What's the problem, Lil? You like him or something?'

'I do not!'

'James, enough,' ordered Ginny.

'Bring him round for tea, Lily. Us and Farouk and Mei Zhao. It will be spectacular.'

'You're such a prat, James!'

'Lily, don't let him bother you,' their mother beseeched. 'Come on, who wants tea?'

'I will,' said Albus.

'He probably wouldn't like you, Lil. You're too scrawny.'

Ginny's hand flew to her daughter at the same time Lily reached for her wand; Ginny restrained her before she could get it out of her pocket. 'James, go upstairs.'

'I'm only teasing!'

'I don't care. Go.'

'But I've been gone since September. Didn't you miss me, Mother?'

'I did until you started talking.'

'Right, well, I see when I'm not wanted,' said James jovially. 'Finlay's having people over tonight, so I should be heading over.'

Ginny's scowl immediately disappeared. 'But you just got home, James.'

'I know. And my own mother doesn't want me here. I'm hurt.'

'Your dad will want to see you.'

'Well, presumably one more evening without me won't kill him, will it?'

Ginny didn't have a reply. She watched as James rapped his trunk with a wand, vanishing it to appear up in his bedroom, before he stooped to kiss her cheek.

'What time will you be home?' she asked him.

'Sometime tomorrow.'

'You're staying the night?'

'You want me to apparate drunk? That's illegal, Ginny.'

'You don't have to drink, you know.'

'Hah. Very funny. Alright, see you lot later.

And without another word, he retreated back out of the wide oak doors they had just entered through. Albus watched him traipse back across the front garden to the boundary of their property, before he disapparated.

Frowning, Ginny closed the door. 'Alright,' she said bracingly. 'Tea.'

Lily didn't bother with an excuse as she turned away and started up the stairs towards her bedroom. Ginny watched her go, still frowning.

'I'll have tea, Mum,' said Albus.

Ginny turned to him and gave him a small, thankful smile. Albus followed her to the kitchen and took a seat at the table while she set the pot to boil. The room looked just as it had before his departure, only rather than the overgrown green of the backyard out the window he could now see was a paddock covered in snow.

'How's school been, Ducky?' Ginny asked him as she poured them each a cup. 'Lots of work?'

'A little. Not too much. How are things here?'

'Oh, the same,' she told him, taking a seat beside him. 'What are your movements over the break?'

Albus sipped his tea before answering. He considered his response and said very carefully, 'I think I might go visit my friend in Aberdeen.'

Ginny looked up at him. 'I didn't know you had a friend in Aberdeen, Ducky.'

His mother's surprise had to be forgiven; other than Rose, he didn't have friends anywhere. 'It's a new friend.'

'What's their name?'

'Mei.'

Ginny hesitated. Albus knew she was thinking of James's teasing; _Us and Farouk and Mei Zhao._ 'And what are they like?'

'She's nice. She's in Ravenclaw.'

'When are you going to go visit?'

'Er, well… she suggested tomorrow evening.'

'Oh, that's soon.'

'Yeah, well, she… she wants me to stay the night.'

Ginny gave him a sly look. 'So, is she your girlfriend?'

'No, Mum.'

'No?'

'Well... yeah, I guess. Just for a few weeks though.'

'And when are you planning on letting Dad and I meet her?'

'Uh, well… never, really.'

Ginny laughed, but Albus could see a shadow of hurt across her face. 'Are we that embarrassing?'

'No, I just… it's kind of a long way for her to come.'

'It's just as far for you to go to Aberdeen.'

'Yeah, but I've already said I'll go. Is that okay?'

'Of course it is, Al. I'm not telling you that can't go. I'm just saying it would be nice to meet her.'

Albus didn't have a reply to this and so he sipped his tea.

'If you don't want her to endure James we can kick him out for the evening.'

Albus couldn't help but grin. 'Maybe. So, can I stay in Aberdeen?'

'If her parents are alright with it, then of course.'

'Okay, cool.'

'Will you be sharing a room?'

'No, Mum, of course not.'

'I wasn't asking to tell you not to, Al. I was just asking so I know.'

'I need to go send her an owl.'

'Don't you not want to talk about this with me?'

'No, I just really should write to her before dark.'

'Perhaps I could come with you to Aberdeen?

' _Mum.'_

'Your dad and I could stay the night up there, meet her parents…'

'Mum, you're not funny.'

'Okay, fine,' sighed Ginny. 'You're no fun.'

Albus got to his feet, trying to avoid his mother's eyes. He could feel his face burning. He started towards the door, but found himself brought to a halt when she caught his hand. He looked back at her; she was wearing a strange look on her face as she got to her feet and pulled him into a hug.

'Mum…'

'I miss you when you're at school, you know?'

'Yeah, I miss you too.'

'And now you're leaving again. I'm heartbroken.'

'Mum, it's… it's only one night.'

'I'm only joking, Ducky.' But when she released him the look on her face told him she was very serious.

He didn't know what to say to her, and so he asked, 'When will dad be home?'

'Oh, I have no idea.'

'He... he doesn't know?'

'No, he just doesn't tell me.'

'Oh.'

There was a very pregnant pause, before Ginny got to her feet to refill the teapot. 'You should go send your letter, Al. It will be dark soon.'

'Right… yeah. Okay.'

* * *

She had her suspicions that the creaky step three doors from the bottom of the stairs had been intelligently designed by her mother. She did her best to miss it most days, but after three months away from home she was out of practice. She remembered as soon as her boots made contact, and at once she heard her name called from the kitchen.

'Rose?'

'Yes?' she bellowed back down the passageway.

'Can you come to the kitchen?'

'What for?'

'Come here. I don't want to yell.'

Sighing, she jumped the last two remaining steps and hurried down the passageway. She knew better than to step fully into the kitchen, because that meant she would committing to a conversation, and so merely leant in from the doorway, finding her mother and father sitting at the dining table.

'What are you all dressed up for, Rosie?' asked her father.

Her father often asked her this, no matter what she was wearing. Today it was a pair of old jeans and a woollen jumper. 'I'm not dressed up, Dad.'

'Where are you off to, darling?' pressed her mother.

Rose couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes. Her parents liked to fool themselves into believing they were laid back, but they were not. They maintained their lofty, inquiring tones, hoping to sound merely interested, but she knew this was not the case; they wanted to know if it was somewhere they could either stop her going or somewhere to which they could accompany her.

'I was going out to get a coffee from down the street,' she told them. This was not strictly speaking a lie; she had intended to get a coffee. However, in addition to the coffee she had intended to meander around London for several hours so as to avoid listening the bellowed shouts of Hugo and his friends from the backyard throughout their endless Quidditch match. 'Is that allowed?'

'Oh, I'll come with you,' said Hermione, getting to her feet. 'That's just what I feel like.'

'I'll just bring you back one.'

'But I want one too,' said Ron. 'You can't carry all three, Rosie.'

She heaved a sigh and leant heavily against the doorframe. 'True.'

'Let me get my coat,' said Hermione cheerfully.

Once her mother was fully bundled up against the cold, she and Rose left the house and started down the steps into the garden. While Rose was sullen, her mother was seemingly jubilant; this, Rose knew, was an attempt to distract Rose from the auror stationed whose concealment charm her parents believed was beyond detection of s sixteen-year-old.

The walk to the coffee shop at the end of Pembroke Road took no more than five minutes, and yet it was enough for Rose's frustration to build. Her mother pressed her for information on everything – OWLs, prefect duty, her favourite subjects – and yet Rose had long ago abandoned any attempt to ask her mother about the Ministry. They found the coffee shop packed to the brim with locals escaping the cold; this only exacerbated Rose's anger. They pushed their through the crowd to the counter, ordered their drinks, and then tried their best to push themselves into a corner where they would be out of the way while they waited.

Rose offered nothing in the way of conversation, and so her mother said to her, 'Your hair's getting very long, Rosie.'

'I need to cut it.'

'It suits you.'

'There's too much of it.'

'Well, I can cut it for you, if you like.'

'I can do it.'

'It was very crooked last time you did it yourself.'

'Well, I don't really care.'

'Well, if you don't mind then go ahead.'

Rose turned away, rolling her eyes, to gaze out the window.

Rose wouldn't have believed it possible, but when her mother spoke again her voice was even more forcefully bright. 'Have you been reading the _Prophet?'_

She had been waiting for this since arriving home yesterday. 'A bit.'

'So, you know, because of what happened to Gustav Gamp we might have some aurors at our place over the Christmas break. Not because there's any threat – just a bureaucratic thing.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'But don't let it worry you. You'll just have to let me know if any of your friends are coming over.'

'The only people who come see me are Chandra and Albus and she's gone to France for the break and he'll be in Aberdeen with his girlfriend.'

'Albus has a girlfriend?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh, that's nice. What's she like?'

'Awful.'

'Rosie.'

'Well, she is.'

'You shouldn't talk about her like that if Albus likes her.'

'She says worse things about me, I'm sure.'

Hermione frowned. 'What on earth would she have to say about you?'

If Rose had not been feeling so annoyed, she may have laughed at that. 'Forget I mentioned it.'

'Why is Albus going out with her if she isn't nice to you?'

'Because he's a person of his own free will and his personal life isn't dictated by my preferences.'

Hermione gave a sigh, finally relenting. 'Alright, Rose. I'll stop talking.' She stepped forward to receive their coffees from the barista. 'Here, take yours.'

'Thanks.'

They turned towards the door of the crowded coffee shop, Rose finding her path impeded. She looked up at the person in front of her and her heart gave an unpleasant jolt and she forced herself not to scowl. 'Oh, hello.'

'Rosie, hi,' said Andrew, beaming down at her. He seemed to have grown another foot since she had last seen him, only exacerbating his resemblance to a skinny, blond beanstalk. He was wearing a pair of neat Muggle trainers, jeans, and a Fulham football club sweater. 'I didn't know you were home. How are you?'

'Fine. How are you?'

'Good now that the term's over. Did you get any snow at school before you came down south?'

'Yeah, a little.'

'Cool. So, what GCSE subjects are you taking?'

'Oh, you know… English, history, maths. Just the boring ones. Sorry, Andrew, but I should go…'

'We're not in a hurry, Rosie,' said her mother quickly, looking between her daughter and the blond.

'No, Mum, it's fine… I have homework, so, you know, need to get home.'

'Yeah, no problem,' said Andrew brightly. 'But we should catch up before you go back North. When are you free?'

'I'll have to let you know.'

'Okay, sure. I don't think I have your number?'

'My phone's still broken,' she said quickly. 'I'll knock on your door if I'm passing. I better go.'

'Alright, cool. Bye, Rosie.'

'Bye, Andrew.'

And with that she pushed her way out of the café, ignoring the disgruntled looks she received from customers she jostled them out of the way. Her mother bid Andrew goodbye and followed her outside, hurrying to keep up with her pace as they traipsed down the street.

'I didn't know you two were friends,' said her mother as they walked.

'We're not. I've just chatted to him on the street before.'

'He knows you go to school in Scotland?'

'I told him Manchester.'

'Why Manchester?'

'I don't know. It came to mind.'

'And how long has your phone been broken?'

'About a year now.'

'You know, if it would make your life easier I could buy you a phone.'

'I don't want a phone.'

'It wouldn't work while you're at school, but you could use it in the summer if you want to talk to him.'

'I don't want to talk to him.'

'Why not? He's gotten very tall.'

'Is that how I should decide whether to talk to somewhat or not? Their capacity for conversation correlates with their height?'

Her mother sighed. 'You're impossible, Rose.'

'I just don't see what his being tall has to do with anything.'

'It doesn't, but he seems like a nice boy. You could give him a chance.'

She had already done so, and been unimpressed, but she wasn't going to tell her mother this. 'He's not my type.'

'Who is your type?'

'God, you don't even _know_ that boy. For all you know he's a murderous psychopath.'

'I just thought… Chandra and Albus are away, perhaps you might like to – to meet some _knew_ friends.'

'Some lovely new friends to distract me from the aurors at our front door?'

Hermione seemed taken aback only very briefly, before she recovered and said sternly, 'Rose, there's not need to get so annoyed-'

'I'm sixteen, I know how to see through a concealment charm,' said Rose coolly as they reached their front gate. 'You treat me like I'm five; escorting me down the street and then setting up playdates for me with Muggles. Here,' she said forcefully, offering her coffee out to the bewildered-looking auror who believed himself to be invisible, 'have this. I don't want it.'

Forcing it into the bewildered auror's hand, she stomped away up the front steps and into the house towards her bedroom.

She climbed the stairs, ignoring her father's call of welcome, to the third floor of the house. She shut the door of her bedroom after her and moved across to her bed, dropping down onto it. Across the room, she could see a sliver of her reflection caught in the mirror. Staring across at the freckly, lanky, bug-eyed girl, she tried to remember when she became like this.

Surely, at some point, she had been reasonable. At what stage of life, after which transgression or occurrence, had she become so difficult, so compelled to be contrarian? She couldn't place her finger on it and though, as she mulled over herself, she knew that it was some conglomeration of the journalists taking her picture when her father walked her through the park and the aurors stationed around her mother that nobody would justify and her parents wanting her to be brilliant but not brilliant enough to know fully had happened to them in their youth.

It was the compulsion not to become like they were; scarred and purposeful and marred by the war they had grown up in. She couldn't blame them for it, as there was no fault on their part, but she knew that was why she was they she was; she didn't want to be like them.

* * *

The drawing room he stepped into looked like it belonged in a history book. _Lords of Scotland in the Seventeen-Hundreds_ , he thought to himself _._ Mei was waiting for him across the room, sitting on a dragon-hide settee. She looked up when she heard the flames roaring, setting her book down to get to her feet.

He stepped out of the fireplace, dusting the soot off of him. 'Hi.'

'Hello.'

'You look pretty.'

She tugged at the hem of her teal shift dress. 'Thank you.'

He was feeling nervous, for reasons he was not entirely sure of. They had never spent a full day together, let alone an entire evening. He set down his over-night bag near the hearth and stepped forward to kiss her.

When they broke apart he took an appraising look around the room. Outside the window he could see snow-capped pine trees expanding over a large estate. 'I like your house.'

'I can show you around after dinner. Come on, they'll have set the table.'

'Oh… great. Okay.'

'Don't worry, they're not picky with who they like.'

He didn't really believe Mei intended this to be insulting, but it none-the-less battered his confidence somewhat. They left the drawing room and she led him through a long, carpeted passageway and down a flight of stairs.

He had never met Cassie's parents when they were going out; she had never seemed to want him to. Hurt as he was by this, it had been far less trouble than what Mei was insisting upon.

Mei led him through a high archway into a expansive dining room that he believed could have been a painting hanging in a gallery of Georgian art. The walls were adorned in woven tapestries; the velvet curtains were pulled back to reveal a darkened courtyard full of naked, frozen rose bushes. In the centre of the room was a gleaming mahogany table long enough to fit twenty people.

His stomach clenched. For somebody from a family as affluent as his own, he had very little knowledge of anything to do with class. When he was very young, his father had placated the Ministry by attending various dinner, events, and fun-raises; but Harry had since lost his patience for it. Dinner at Hecate Hall usually involved he and his parents and siblings crowded around their kitchen table arguing about something.

Mei didn't sit at the table, however. She continued across the room and opened a small door that led into a side room.

'Mum,' she said into the room. 'He's here.'

His heart was pounding in his chest. He stood near the door, waiting for Mei's mother to appear. He had no experience with fine dining and he wondered how long it would take the woman to discern that.

But rather than anybody stepping into the dining room, Mei looked over her shoulder and she gestured for Albus to follow her inside. The room he found himself was far less intimidating than the elegant dining room; it was a small, dainty kitchen, full of steam and the smell of roast lamb. A woman stood over the stove top tending to a saucepan of sprouts, while across the room a man was setting places at a small kitchen table. They both looked around as he and Mei entered.

'Albus, this is my mum Yun, and this is Adalric.'

'Darling,' said Yun, and without another word she moved forward to pull him into a hug. 'It's lovely to meet you, finally.'

Mei's mother was small, slim, and elegant looking, but bore very little resemblance to her daughter other than her long dark hair. Albus also found it hard to imagine Mei ever pulling a stranger into a hug.

'Good to meet you finally, Albus,' said Adalric, who had moved forward to offer Albus his hand. He was very tall and considerably older than his wife, though no less goodlooking. 'Ever been to Aberdeen before?'

'Er – no. This is my first time.'

'Well, Mei will have to show you around while you're here. Who wants a drink?'

As Adalric shuffled past them to open the kitchen cabinets, Albus stumbled clumsily out of the way. Mei took a purposeful hold of his arm and pulled him over to the kitchen table, depositing him in a chair where he couldn't bother anyone. She took a seat beside him as Adalric crossed back across the kitchen, holding a bottle of mead and levitating four glasses.

'Do you like red, Albus?'

'Er… I… I don't really drink.'

'You'll like it just fine, Albus,' said Mei impatiently.

Albus could see Adalric repressing a smile as he poured them each a glass.

'If you don't like it you don't need to finish it; I won't be offended,' Adalric assured him as he passed him the glass.

Mei was already sipping her wine. Albus knew her seventeenth birthday wasn't until next year, and he also knew that she wasn't one to disobey laws; however, by the manner in which her parents seemed to behave around her it appeared they gave more credence to her maturity than his parents had ever given him. As Yun approached with a tray full of roast lamb, Mei levitated away the bottle of wine to make room and summoned over napkins for each of them from the kitchen cabinet; in his own home, he was used to watching James and Lily put up a fight whenever they were asked to do more than pour their own tea.

'So, Mei tells us you're taking your OWLs this year, dear?' said Yun as Adalric served them all potatoes.

'Yeah. I – yeah.'

'Tough year,' said Adalric. 'It's not stressing you out too much?'

'Er, well… well Mei's really good at helping me study.'

Yun, who had set to carving up the lamb, gave a laugh. 'Oh, darling, aren't you good letting her hound you into the library?'

'Mum,' hissed Mei, rolling her eyes.

Yun ignored her. 'You must learn to say no to her, Albus, or you'll never see the light of day.'

Apparently in an attempt to spare his step-daughter, Adalric turned to Albus and said, ''I'm a big fan of your mum's column. I loved her commentary of the Cannons game last week.'

'Oh, cool, I'll… I'll let her know.'

'It sounds like a fascinating job, what she does,' said Yun. 'What is it that you plan on doing after school, Albus?'

'Er, well… I…'

'He's not sure yet,' Mei finished for him. 'Anyway, is everyone ready to start eating?'

* * *

It was snowing feebly when he arrived. Stumbling from the apparition, he trudged forward and kicked the gate open. He had forgotten his coat at Finlay's house, but the mead warded off the cold better than he had hoped. He stood huddled at the foot of the front door with his wand held aloft, tapping the lock, trying to remember the counter-charms. It took him several attempts before he managed to let himself inside.

Hecate Hall was silent, his family asleep above, and he moved uninhibited through the foyer towards the kitchen. He wasn't finished drinking. Flicking his wand, he ignited the torches and stepped inside. He had, it seemed, been too optimistic in anticipating his solitude. His father was sitting at the kitchen table, still in his auror's cloak, looking thoroughly dishevelled and older than James remembered. A plate of baked beans on toast sat in front of him.

'Oh, hello,' said Harry. 'Do you live here too?'

He recovered from his surprise in time to reply, 'Unfortunately.'

'Ah, yes. I do vaguely remember a third child. It's been so long though, I was beginning to think I'd imagined him.'

Caught off guard at finding his father, James had forgotten why he had come into the kitchen. He pulled out a seat at the kitchen table and dropped into it. 'You can talk.'

'I can? That's clever of me.'

'When did you get home?' James gestured clumsily towards the plate of baked beans. 'Clearly you missed dinner.'

'I'm an adult. I can do as I like.'

'So can I – I mean so _am_ I – I mean… you know what a mean.'

Harry gave a wry smile. 'Have something to eat.'

'Nah, not hungry. Could go for some mead though. You got any?'

'Haven't you had enough?'

James, in his drunkenness, did his best to look severe. 'Harry, please. Be serious.'

'There's some in the cabinet. Pour me a glass.'

James got swaggeringly to his feet. Harry observed him from across the room, wrenching the cabinets open unceremoniously. Harry warned him to be quiet, knowing he would go ignored, and watched as his son uncorked the bottle of mead and poured them both a glass.

'Thank you,' said Harry as James passed it to him.

James collapsed back into his chair and drank deeply. 'This is shitty mead.'

'You're welcome.'

'Ginny's not going to be happy with you.'

'I think I'll be spared. I have you to thank for that. She told me you were out the door again as soon as you arrived on Saturday.'

'Your head's bleeding,' was the only reply James bothered with.

Harry raised a hand to his temple, touching his fingers to it and pulling them away to inspect the droplets of blood. He stifled a curse and took out his wand, conjuring a handkerchief and putting it to his head. With his free hand he returned to his beans on toast, trying to look unfazed.

'What were you doing tonight?' James asked him.

'James, I've made a point of not asking you that question. Can we respect each other's privacy?'

'I'll tell you what I did. What do you want to know?'

Harry smiled and sipped his wine. 'I don't want to know anything.'

'I got off with this girl called Corrina. She wanted me to go back to her place tonight but she's a real pain to get away from in the morning, so I told her I was staying at Finlay's. I _would_ have stayed at Finlay's, but _he_ got off with some bloke, so I had to come back here.' He took another greedy gulp of mead. 'Your turn.'

Harry hesitated and sipped is wine. 'Well, your night sounds a lot more interesting than mine.'

'It's because you're old and boring.'

'I know.'

'And you need to retire. I mean, seriously? Can't even fix your own wounds before coming home? And you wonder why Ginny's always railing at you.'

'I think it's time for us both to go to bed, James.'

'You're seriously not going to tell me where you were? I'll tell you what colour knickers Corrina was wearing,'

' _James_.'

'Was it more of this blood equality stuff? Like what happened in Hogsmeade?'

'No, it's far less interesting. Come on, get up.'

'So why can't you tell me?'

Harry picked up both glasses of mead and crossed to the sink, emptying them. 'Because I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn't talk about my work with my children.'

'But I'm all grown up now.'

'Really? I'd never have known.'

'Now that's just mean.'

Harry put his hand around James's arm, trying to ease him up, but James wouldn't co-operate. He looked up at his father with the eyes he shared with his mother.

'I'm very stubborn, you know, Harry?'

Heaving a sigh, Harry let go of James to pull out his wand and vanish the bloodied handkerchief. 'We were acting on a tip-off regarding some stolen cauldrons. Nothing to do with the Hogsmeade case. We have no leads on that.'

James cocked an eyebrow. 'None at all?'

'No more than what was reported in the papers.'

'But is it the same people who vandalised Diagon Alley? And the same people who killed Gamp?'

'I can't tell you that,' said Harry, 'but even if I could it wouldn't matter, because we have no idea.'

James's brow creased. He sat stationary for a while, thinking, before he pulled himself to his feet. 'Is this like… bad? Like worse than the other cases you've worked on?'

'I've been an auror for a long time now. There's been a lot of _worsts_.'

They left the kitchen and climbed the stairs as quietly as they could, but with James's heavy, stumbling footsteps, it was hardly very quiet. They started down the passageway and reached James's bedroom, Harry pausing as James opened the door. He peered inside; it was the first time he had seen it since the first day of September. It remained unchanged; his mess was in the same place he left it, clothes strewn across the floor, Quidditch posters tacked half-heartedly into the wall paper.

'Well, goodnight,' his father said to him. 'Enjoy your hangover.'

He turned away from his bedroom to look at his father. 'You know what Finlay told me the other day?'

'What?'

'He said he wants to join the Ministry.'

'Does he?'

'Because of Rowle. To stand up to him or some rubbish like that. And then tonight I heard him talking about enrolling in the auror programme.'

Harry did not reply immediately, but creased his brow in thought, dried blood glistening over the old, faded scar. He raised a hand to cup James's shoulder and said evenly, 'Don't let him.'

And with that he gave his son's shoulder a brief squeeze before he turned away and disappeared down the darkened corridor towards his own bedroom.

* * *

It was near midnight by the time they returned to the manor house. They had donned scarves, gloves, and heavy coats for Mei to show him around the gardens, and yet they were still shivering and their faces were flushed from the chill as they climbed the stairs to Mei's bedroom.

'We can go into town tomorrow,' she told him, keeping her voice low so as not to reach her parents' room. 'Would you like to see the coast?'

'I'm happy to do whatever you'd like to do.'

'You always say that.'

'Well, I am.'

'You're making me feel like my mother's right; perhaps I do hound you.' He made to protest, but Mei stopped him when she came to a halt at a set of double-doors. 'This is your room.' She opened the door to reveal a handsome room furnished with the same elegance of the rest of the house wide double bed. 'Are you ready to go to bed?'

'I – what?'

'To sleep. Are you tired? It's quite late.'

'Oh, I… I can if you are.'

'Not particularly. Do you want to see my room?'

He told her he did, and she led him further down the passageway to another set of double-doors. She stepped through them and he followed her inside, suddenly enveloped by a rich, sweet smell that was something like lavender and old books and very much like Mei.

He gazed around him; there was the same regal decor as the rest of the house with the Georgian furnishings and tall bookshelves, but there was something much more familiar about the room; a corkboard hung on the wall sporting an array of pictures of Mei's friends; a polished desk sat in the corner, overwhelmed with school books and piles of parchment; her bed was beneath the window, covered in delicate floral linens.

'I like your room,' he told her.

She shut the door behind him. 'I don't want to wake my parents up.'

'Oh – will you get in trouble if I'm in here?'

She sighed, taking a seat at her desk. 'No, Albus. I'm just being considerate.'

'Oh, right…'

Unsure of what to do with himself, he crossed the room to inspect the corkboard. He recognised the Ravenclaw girls Mei was with in each of the photos, none of whom he had ever spoken to. He imagined, somewhat horrified, at what Mei would find if she ever came to his house; he had no pictures of friends on his walls.

He paused over a photograph in the corkboard's centre; the people pictured were moving feebly, waving at the camera. The Mei in the picture looked around eight and was smiling more broadly than he had ever seen her.

Mei moved in her seat to see what he was looking out. 'That's my dad.'

'He looks like you.'

'A little, I suppose.'

'Is that in Dorset?'

'Yeah. That was right before he got sick. I don't have many pictures of him up. It makes Mum sad.'

Albus nodded, as if he understood, but of course he did not. He decided he didn't much want to look at the picture anymore and so he turned towards the bookshelf, inspecting the titles on the spines.

'Hey, Albus?'

He looked around at her. Beneath the soft light of the torches, she looked very gentle. 'Yeah?'

'Thank you for coming. I know you didn't want to, but thank you.'

'Oh, it's – it's nothing. I did want to come – I wanted to see your home.'

'Yes, I know that, but I know meeting my parents made you nervous.'

'Yes, well… do you think they like me?'

'I'm sure they do.'

'I didn't have anything to say to them, though.'

'They were happy just asking you questions. I've never brought a boy home before. Mum was pretending it wasn't a big deal, but before you got here it was all she was talking about.'

'Yeah, well, I've never met a girl's parents before, so this is a first for me too.'

'Cassandra Kettleburn didn't want you to meet her parents?'

'No, not really. I would have been too scared, anyway.'

'You were scared this evening, but you still came.'

'Yes, well, me and Cassie…' He paused; he wasn't sure what he was meaning to tell her. 'I don't think I liked Cassie the way I like you.'

Mei cocked her head. 'And how do you like me?'

'Well… well, quite a bit, I suppose.'

Mei's brow creased, as if confronted with a tricky sentence in a textbook, before she said carefully, 'I like you quite a bit too.'

'Thank you.' There was a silence, before Albus told her, 'I like your house. There's something good here. Like… your parents seem to give you space. It's kind of… peaceful. I wish my house was like that.'

'Yes, I suppose you're right. I've always gotten on well with my parents, I suppose. They never treated me like a child.'

'You don't argue?'

'Well, everyone argues, but not very much.'

'My family argues _a lot_.'

'Well, there are three siblings in your house.'

'I suppose, but it's more…'

'More what?'

'Well, it's just… if it was just James and Lily arguing I suppose it wouldn't bother me so much. But Mum and Dad do it too. It makes me feel like… I don't know. Seeing you parents it makes me think my family might not be – not be normal, you know?'

'Nobody thinks their family's normal. And Mum and Adalric certainly argue. Not always, but they do.'

'I suppose.'

'And anyway,' said Mei, 'I don't think anyone could expect your family to be wholly normal, after what happened to them.'

'Well, yeah, but… but then when I come home it's just so… Lily and James started fighting the second we left King's Cross, and then when we got home James immediately went out, and Mum didn't say so but I could tell it upset her, and then Dad got home late as always and they argued about that and – and it's just _so loud_.'

'Well, your mum should be expecting him to come home late. She married an auror, after all.'

'I guess,' said Albus. 'They got married before he was an auror, though.'

'But he joined the auror office when he was eighteen, right?'

'Yeah, but they got married really young,' he explained. 'Like – like a few months after the war ended or something like that.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. Once Mum turned seventeen. So August. And the war ended…'

'May,' she finished for him. 'She was only seventeen?'

'Yeah.'

'That's way too young.'

Albus wasn't sure how to respond to this. He tried to imagine if James announced his engagement. He decided Mei was probably right. 'Yeah, I guess so.'

She glanced at her watch and got to her feet. 'We should probably sleep if we want to have time to go to the beach before you need to be home.'

'Oh, right, yeah. I forgot I was leaving tomorrow.'

'You can stay longer if you like.'

He paused near her doorway. 'I would like that, only… only I feel like my mum's lonely. I don't think I ever realised it before, but I think she is.'

Mei gave a slow nod, before she reached to take his hand. 'You're a very nice person, Albus.'

'I… thank you. I'm – I'm glad.'

'I think I ought to be more like you.'

'No, you shouldn't. You're good as you are.'

He saw her cheeks darken somewhat, before she raised a hand to his cheek and inclined to kiss him. She hadn't kissed him like that before; it was always fleeting, nervous, hiding from prying eyes, but this was something more. Deep and ongoing and longing for more. He laced his arms around her, his hands trailing through her long, smooth dark hair. He wanted more – he wanted to touch more of her, a kind of hunger he had never felt fully before…

He pulled away from her, retracting his hands. He realised now that he was breathing heavily, his chest pounding. She was looking down at him with dark, searching eyes, and he knew she felt the same.

'Mei…'

'Yes?'

'I… Your parents are down the hall.'

Her eyes flittered past him to the closed door. For a second it looked as if she would protest, before she seemed to remember herself, and she gave a slow now. 'You're right.'

'I'll – I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Yes. Goodnight, Albus.'

'Night, Mei.'

* * *

He didn't know why he was there, other than because it was expected of him. He supposed that was why he did a lot of things – because it was expected of him. It wasn't pleasant to admit that about himself, but he supposed it was the truth.

Fingers aching from the cold, he inclined the find another stone. He hadn't thought to bring gloves and he was regretting it now, shivering so badly that it made it hard to aim at the window above. He had only been at it for a few minutes, and yet he was very nearly ready to secede; he knew she was most likely ignoring him anyway.

He arched his arm back and tossed the stone forward. It clattered against the window pain, the faint rattling reaching him from above. He waited for the light of her bedroom to flicker, for the curtain to be nudged back, for her face to appear at the window, but it did not.

 _Well, what did you expect?_

He didn't have an answer, and so he turned away, burying his freezing hands deep into his pocket to prepare for the walk back to the road.

'Scorpius?'

He rounded back on his heel. Zaina was peering out of her front door, wearing a coat over her night dress, having cracked it open just enough to poke her head out to glare at him.

'Hi,' he said to her.

She stepped out onto her doorstep in her slippers, closing the door behind her. 'What is wrong with you? It's the middle of the night. You woke me up.'

He knew she was lying. Her curls were hanging too artfully and the wings of her eyeliner were too pristine. She had been sitting in her bedroom as he threw the pebbles at her window, making him wait. He decided against telling her this, however. 'I just wanted to see you.'

To her credit, she gave a laugh, unconvinced. 'Is that slag you've been seeing busy tonight?'

He did his best not to snap at her, but he couldn't stop himself from sighing deeply in frustration. 'I told you, Zaina. I was in detention all night. You need to let it go.'

'No, I will not let it go. Not until you tell me where you were.'

'I was in detention! You can ask Potter if you like.'

She gave another scandalised laugh and turned away, making to shut the door in his face, but he moved forward quickly enough to catch her hand. 'Zaina, wait…'

'No thank you.'

'Zaina, come on. I came all this way to see you. I just want to talk, okay?'

'What is there to talk about?'

He hesitated, unsure of what to tell her. She would never understand it, and he had no way of making it so that she could. There was nothing much to say when it came to his family. Defeated for anything of worth to say, he asked her instead, 'How are your parents?'

She jumped on the opportunity to scold him. 'Very concerned that I'm still seeing you after what's been in the papers. It's been very difficult, you know?'

This was not the topic he wanted to arrive upon. 'Yes, it must be hard for you.'

'Oh, don't pretend like you're actually bothered. You'd love to see him out of the way, wouldn't you?'

'Okay,' said Scorpius slowly. 'Forget it. I'll go home if you're going to be like that.'

'Well, what do you want from me?'

'I just…' But he wasn't sure what he wanted; he didn't want to argue with her; he didn't want to be shivering on her doorstep; he certainly didn't want to go home. 'I just wanted to see you,' he said again.

'Well, I don't want to see you,' she informed him. 'Not until I ask Potter where you were.'

'Fine.'

'Fine.'

'Goodbye, then.'

'Bye.'

He knew, as he started down the path to her front gate, that she was watching him. She wanted him to protest; she wanted him to beg her to speak to him, beg her to let him stay, but he wasn't prepared to. He had no patience for it; had no desire for it, even. She wasn't going to give him what he wanted, and yet what it was he wanted he wasn't sure of.

It was an hour on the Knight Bus from Zaina's home in Norfolk back to Wiltshire. No roads led to Malfoy Manor; the driveway wound for two miles through their estate until it reached the nearest town, and this was the closest the Knight Bus would take him. He was ashamed to have made such a trek for no other reason than to see Zaina, and yet there was no rush for him to be home; his mother would sleep until morning and his father would not check on him.

He was frozen by the time he reached the manor, so much so that he was almost pleased to be there. The wrought iron gates swung forward for him, slowly and silently, and he started towards the house. It glistened beneath the moon, silver amongst the snow-covered garden. He supposed that it was beautiful, and yet it was hard to think of it as such when he knew what was inside.

He strode into the foyer, his footsteps echoing off the arching ceiling. He could see it's light dancing on the marble floor, leaking from under the doorway to the drawing room; somebody had lit a fire. For a moment he feared it would be his father, but his worries were quelled when the door war nudged open to reveal the bulging blue eyes of the head house elf.

'Evening, Master Scorpius.'

'Hi, Dinny.'

Dinny bent into a bow to gesture him into the drawing room. 'Come and sit by the fire, Master Scorpius. You look frozen.'

'I'm fine. I'm just going to go to bed.'

'Dinny can bring you tea if you would like, Master Scorpius.'

'It's okay, Dinny.'

'You have been gone for hours, Master Scorpius. It has been snowing.'

Sighing and repressing a shiver, Scorpius nodded. 'Yeah.'

'Mistress Astoria would be worried if she were to know, Master Scorpius.'

'You won't tell her, will you?'

'Do you forbid it, Master Scorpius?'

'Well, no but... I'd appreciate it if you didn't.'

'Then Dinny will not.'

'Thank you.' He stood in silence for a minute, trying to avoid Dinny's gleaming, questioning eyes. He wanted to retreat to his bedroom, but he felt some obligation to the elf; he knew he deserved an explanation, having waited for him all evening, and yet Scorpius knew he would never ask. 'I just went to see my girlfriend.'

Dinny gave a nod; he had probably already assumed as much. 'Master Scorpius, you best be in bed. You are shivering.'

Knowing he had been dismissed, he climbed up the marble staircase to his bedroom. He climbed into bed immediately, grateful to discover Dinny had stowed a hot water bottle in bed for him, and nestled beneath the covers and shut his eyes, willing sleep to come.

Lying alone in his bed he had no other option than to confront the truth. The reason he had gone to Zaina's, and the reason he couldn't admit to her, was for the sake of comfort. He should have known he wouldn't find it, and that was his own fault because he would never allow her to. He liked her to see him as cool and bold and normal, and yet he was none of those things. He didn't want her, or anyone, to see his life for what it was.

He turned over beneath the covers and stared up at the ceiling, the moonlight through his window illuminating the ornate cornices. He wondered, not for the first time, who had had the patience to carve them so delicately; his ancestors or their house elves or Muggles under the Imperius Curse?

He shut his eyes again, but sleep would not come. When he was younger he would have been willing to call Dinny for a sleeping draught, but the elf would probably already be in bed and he didn't want to disturb him. He would lie awake for hours as he often did, thinking of his parents and who had built Malfoy Manor and the cursed fire in Hogsmeade.

* * *

 **Song credit:** ** _Rage Flows_ by the Born Ruffians.**

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! I know I updated not too long ago, but I capitalised on a break between assignments to get ahead with the writing.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought in a review, I'd be very grateful! xx**


	11. Old Money

_28/06/18_

* * *

 ** _Old Money  
_** _Blue hydrangeas, cold cash divine  
_ _Cashmere, cologne and white sunshine  
_ _Red racing cars, sunset and vine  
_ _The kids were young and pretty  
_ _Where have you been? Where did you go?  
_ _Those summer nights seem long ago_

* * *

The sound of the wireless crackled, echoing off of the conservatory walls.

' _And Khatri swerves, under Mason, launches up – and scores! Puddlemore's going to have a hard time coming back from that…'_

He knew how the match ended. It was a repeat from last week. Cork beat Puddlemore three hundred to one hundred and twenty. It wasn't a particularly enthralling match, and yet there was nothing else on the radio other than Christmas carols, and he couldn't bear to face them.

Across the room he heard the door creek open and shifted in his armchair to glance around, finding Mitsy in the doorway, struggling for breath. She was the youngest of their house elves and was usually designated the more tiresome chores, today's apparently being locating him.

'Master Scorpius,' she squeaked at him, 'Mistress Astoria is wanting you in the kitchen.'

He gave his assent and switched off the radio, getting to his feet.

'Master Scorpius, you is not in your robes yet,' said Mitsy, alarmed.

He didn't bother replying; he would have to have the same conversation with his mother shortly. He followed Mitsy through the bottom floor of the manor and into the kitchen, finding it in hive of activity. The four other house elves had each been designated work; Dinny was garnishing a blancmange, Twitch and Deirdre were chopping vegetables for a salad, and Lotty was tending to the stove top. In amongst them, Astoria was standing over the counter in scarlet dress-robes, arranging a delicate looking cheese platter, humming to herself. She looked up at him when he stepped into the room.

'Darling, there you are,' she said, and gave him a smile and a sigh. 'Where have you been? Oh, dear, you're not dressed. You best hurry. Your father's gone to pick up your grandmother.'

'I was just going to wear this.'

His mother eyed the trousers and sweater he was wearing. He could tell she wanted to protest, but protesting wasn't much in her character. 'I do like that sweater, darling,' she began carefully, 'although I think your father was hoping we could all – that we'd all look nice for your grandmother. It's her first Christmas without poor Lucius, after all.'

'Mum, she's not even going to notice.' He knew this was a lie, but Astoria didn't pick him up on it.

'Darling, I really think your father would appreciate it.'

'Well, I'll ask him when he gets back.'

Astoria cast a glance around at the elves to try and gauge if they were listening; they were all tactful enough to appear immersed in their work. 'Darling…'

'Are you finished with that?' He gestured to the cheese platter. 'I'll put it on the table.'

'Master Scorpius, Dinny will do it,' said the head elf, bounding forward. 'Master Scorpius can go get ready.'

He watched Dinny hoist the platter over his head and traipse out of the kitchen through the doors into the dining room. His mother moved on to inspect the blancmanges. Knowing he had lost the debate, Scorpius left the room to go change.

He strode into the foyer: it had been decorated for the occasion. Above his head, several hundred candles were floating in the air, their flames glittering against the marble floor. The elves had adorned the marble staircase and torch-holders with delicate holly vines.

He paused beneath one of the torch-holders. It was made of gold, welded into the head of the serpent, it's mouth stretched wide to hold the open flame. It was designed to look regal, an affect that was rather at odds with the affectionate greenery it had been decorated with. He gazed up at it, wondering once again who had been responsible for welding it so artfully back when the manor house was built, and whether whoever had made it had done so of their own free will.

From behind him, he heard the rap of a wand against the front doors and turned to see them swing forward, permitting his father and grandmother into the house. His father was clutching his grandmother's arm, leading her hobblingly forward. She was wearing elaborate azure dress-robes and looked even thinner than the last time Scorpius had seen her, her once sandy hair now verging on white, her face sallow and lined, and yet when she saw him she gave him a broad smile.

'Scorpius…' she croaked at him. 'Darling, come here.'

He obliged, moving forward to meet them. Narcissa let go of her son to raise her arms and wrap Scorpius in a weak hug. He returned it and allowed her to stand on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. From behind him he heard his mother's heels against the marble floor as she hurried in from the kitchen.

'Oh, Narcissa, you're here,' said Astoria brightly, moving forward to greet her with a kiss. 'Oh, those robes do look lovely. Come in and sit down, dinner's nearly ready.'

Astoria may as well have not spoken, for Naricissa was focused adoringly on her grandson, clutching his hands in hers. 'My darling, you have gotten so tall.'

He didn't know what to say to this, and so he merely told her, 'Happy Christmas, Grandmother.'

Narcissa ignored this and raised a hand to brush his hair from fringe back. 'And your hair – it's getting quite long, isn't it? Certainly, it needs a trim.'

With this, she at last acknowledged Astoria by sending her a rather pointed look, which prompted Draco to declare, 'We've told him he needs to cut it, but he refuses. Honestly, it's started to look ridiculous, Scorpius.'

'Oh, I think it suits him,' said Astoria fondly. 'Come on, let's go sit. Narcissa, what would you like to drink? We have mead, sherry…'

She stepped forward to take her mother-in-law's arm to lead her slowly forward into the dining room. Scorpius made to follow them, but his father swooped upon him to catch his arm.

'You're not wearing you robes,' Draco muttered.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'I didn't know I was supposed to.'

Before Draco could scold him any further, Astoria called to them from the dining room. Draco's eyes flickered from Scorpius to the doorway, torn between urging his son to go change and not wanting to keep his wife and mother waiting. Deciding on the latter, he let go of Scorpius and strode past him into the dining room.

* * *

 _'_ James.'

The light through his window told him he had overslept, but he felt no push to get up. He had slept in to retrieve lost hours of sleep that had escaped him while he was out drinking with Finlay and their dorm-mates. His head was aching and he was still exhausted, and so he shut his eyes to will himself back to sleep.

 _'_ _James_.'

Only then did he realise that he hadn't woken of his own accord, and that he wasn't alone in his bedroom. He raised his head as slightly as possible to glance across at his bedroom door. Seeing who had woken him, he groaned and pulled his duvet over his head.

'James, please get up,' beseeched Albus. 'It's nearly one o'clock. Mum's gonna kill you.'

'It's Christmas,' he mumbled through his covers.

' _What?_ '

' _It's Christmas_. It's a holy day. Leave me alone.'

'We're supposed to be at the Burrow in an hour.'

At this he sat up, glaring at his brother. ' _Why?_ We're not going to eat until dinner.'

'It's not _my_ choice. Mum wants us there.' Albus raised a hand and pointed towards the window. 'You have an owl.'

James glanced around. A shabby-looking screech owl was perched on the window sill, tapping at the glass, a yellowed slip of parchment attached to its leg. Albus moved took a step towards the window to let the owl inside.

'Ah!' cried James, aiming a finger at Albus, who came to a dead-halt. 'That's my letter. Stay away from it.'

'God, fine,' snapped Albus, and he turned away to leave the room, but James called him back.

'I heard you've been in Aberdeen.'

Albus looked back at him over his shoulder. He hesitated, as if trying to gauge whether he was being baited, before saying, 'I got back last night. You'd already gone out.

'You still a virgin, then?'

Albus's face reddened, but he ignored the question. 'If you stay in bed Mum's gonna blame me for not getting you up.'

'Did you shag her or not?'

Albus rolled his eyes and turned away once more.

'I'll take that as a no,' said James. 'Why? She's pretty good-looking. Legs far too nice for you, anyhow.'

Rounding on his brother, Albus growled, 'Can you not talk about her like that?'

'Why? Do you love her, Ducky?'

'Fuck off, James.'

Albus, scowling, turned away once more. This time James allowed him to go, listening to his footsteps fade away, before he slammed his bedroom door shut with a flick of his wand. He pulled himself out of bed and crossed to the window, pulling it open to retrieve the letter. The owl took off into the grey sky.

He knew what it was without opening it, and so he took the time to roll himself a cigarette. He left the window open despite the cold; he was sure his mother was aware of his habit, but he wasn't going to invite a row by filling his bedroom with smoke. Inhaling deeply, he gazed out into the snow-covered street. Hecate Hall had been built before the village stretched out this far, when the land was still forest. The manor now sat on the outskirts of town, but the expansion of the village made the street no more interesting.

He smoked half his cigarette before he picked up the letter and tore it open.

 _Jim,_

 _Ten tonight, usual place_

 _M. Fletcher_

* * *

Most meals in Malfoy Manor were conducted in relative silence. There was a polite enquiry here or there, but they were dominated by the sound of silver knives against china plates and mead bottles being poured into goblets. In other years, when his mother's side of the family joined them, Christmas was far more tolerable. This year's exclusion of the Greengrasses had been orchestrated by his father for, as he insisted, Narcissa's sake.

By the time they had made it to the third course, Scorpius was itching to retreat to his bedroom.

'And how are you finding the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, darling?' Narcissa croaked from across the table.

'Yeah, fine.'

'And what classes did you choose to continue with?'

'Muggle studies and arithmancy.'

His father looked at him as Narcissa set down her glass of mead. 'Oh, dear,' she said. 'It's such a shame Mr Rowle hasn't been able to have Muggle studies made non-compulsory. It would be much more beneficial for you to have a choice of subjects.'

'It's only compulsory until third year,' said Scorpius.

'Mother, would you care for another mead?' asked Draco.

Narcissa appeared not to hear him. She was frowning, apparently deep in thought, before she said matter-of-factly, 'I must say, I'm very happy that we have that Mr Rowle there to look out for us. I feel a lot safer knowing we have the curfew in place.'

'When was the last time you went to Diagon Alley?' asked Scorpius, innocently as he could.

Draco cast him a sharp look before saying briskly, 'Yes, Mother, I agree. But you needn't worry about any of that. You know the papers blow it out of proportion. Astoria, perhaps it's time for pudding?'

'Oh, yes, I'll let the elves know,' said Astoria brightly, and she rose from her chair. 'Narcissa, would you like another sherry?'

'But, Draco, you must be worried,' continued Narcissa determinedly. 'With all the nonsense they've been reporting about you, and that fool Harry Potter treating you as a suspect...'

Draco tried to appear unbothered, though Scorpius could see him frowning. He watch as his father swirled his glass of mead, staring into its depths. 'I'm not concerned,' said Draco.

'We mustn't underestimate these things. You know how Muggle-borns can behave towards us.'

Draco said nothing and Astoria, looking between her husband and mother-in-law, dropped back down into her seat. She stretched her arm across the table to take her husband's hand.

'Well, actually, Narcissa,' said Astoria slowly, 'the both of us have had other things to think about.'

There was something in her voice that caught Scorpius's attention. It was excited, almost childish. His eyes darted across to his parents. His mother was smiling, his father was not; instead he was gazing at his wife with something akin to warning, as if somehow trying to communicate with her in silence. He was evidently unsuccessful, as Astoria continued.

'We have big news,' she said in the same giddy trill. 'You know after what happened in August I've been seeing a very good healer at St Mungo's.'

Something sharp prickled in Scorpius's throat.

'Oh, is that still going on?' said Narcissa.

Astoria seemed unable to contain her smile. 'Well, I went back last week, and they confirmed that the treatment's been working, and we're going to have a baby.'

Something dark and awful swooped down upon Scorpius. He had no words as he watched Narcissa gasp and get to her feet. She enveloped Draco in her arms, before moving onto kiss Astoria's cheeks. Scorpius's eyes were fixed upon his father, who was forcing a smile, as Astoria trilled with joy. Narcissa asked the terrible questions about due-dates and names and healers. Astoria suggested champagne for the others, and Narcissa agreed, and Draco called to the elves in the kitchen to retrieve it.

'Scorpius, will you have a glass?' chirped Astoria, once Dinny had delivered a bottle of Blanc De Noirs.

He knew this warranted a response. He knew his mother was looking at him, wanting some gesture of blessing. His mind was whirring too quickly to think of a reply; he was wondering how long his mother had known that she was pregnant, wondering what the healers had told her, wondering why he didn't guess when his mother declined wine with dinner, wondering how many galleons a bottle of champagne like that had cost.

'I think he can have one,' said Draco matter-of-factly. 'For a special occasion.'

Scorpius said nothing as he watched his mother fill a champagne flute and place it before him. She brushed her hand over his shoulder as she did so, softly and warmly. He couldn't be angry with her, and yet what was he supposed to do with all the fury surging through him?

'We should toast,' declared Narcissa, once she and Draco had been given a glass each. 'To this wonderful news, and to Astoria's health.'

They chinked glasses, Astoria substituting water, and drank. Scorpius's head was full of the very similar toast they had made in June.

'If only your father was here,' said Narcissa, suddenly turning solemn. 'He would be so proud of you, Draco.'

Scorpius's could feel his hand shaking as raised the glass to his lips.

 _Not again_ , he pleaded in silence. _Please not again_.

* * *

The house was not the same as it had been in his youth, but it was a very good reproduction. In 1998, when the Death Eaters had discovered Ron had been with him rather than ill in the attic, the house had been burned to the ground, and rebuilt again along with the rest of the country. It had been replicated as best as possible, even though the seven stories made to accommodate the children were no longer necessary.

The tiny dining room had been retained, perhaps against better judgement. It had struggled accommodating the Weasleys, himself, and Hermione back in their school days, and was now at breaking point with the addition of twelve grandchildren and three extra in-laws.

'Dubrovnik,' said Fred from across the table. 'You've got to see Dubrovnik.'

James was watching his cousin like he was witnessing a prophet preaching. Fred and his girlfriend had returned from Europe the previous week, both looking lean, dishevelled, and unprepared to back home. He was speaking with a kind of tired drawl; calm and advisory and not something James could ever achieve, though Harry knew that was what he longed for – to disappear away from himself and Ginny and the rest of the family. To retreat to somewhere abroad where he would be foreign and strange and unknown and do things that Harry didn't want to think about.

'Harry, dear, I'm going to have to ask you to move – you're right in the doorway.'

Harry looked around to see his mother-in-law hovering behind him, carrying a large plate of mashed potato. Ron stood beside her, holding a tray on which an enormous roast lamb sat. Harry apologised and shuffled out of the way, allowing Molly and Ron past to deposit the plates of food on the dining room table. There was a collective twittering around the table as family members offered up their praise and thanks.

'Shall I carve?' asked Arthur, gesturing towards the roast lamb.

'Arthur, we can't, Vicky and Teddy aren't here yet.'

'They should 'ave been here by now,' said Fleur with a frown. 'Dommy, did she tell you she would be late?'

'Why would she tell me?' grumbled Dominique. Fleur didn't bother replying, and instead asked the same question of Louis, who said he didn't know.

'They won't mind,' said Bill. 'Come on, let's start.'

Molly and Ron took a seat beside their respective partners, and Harry followed by sitting down on Ron's other side. Ginny was across the table, talking to Audrey and Lucy. The room was so full of people and noise that it was hard to discern what the three women were talking about, but Lucy seemed to be doing most of the talking.

'Potatoes, Harry?' asked Molly over the noise.

Harry thanked her and took the offered bowl, before passing it down the table to Xan.

'The food looks great, you two,' Harry said to Molly and Ron.

'Oh, it's nothing, dear,' said Molly. 'Have as much as you like. You're looking thin again. Ginny tells me you've been working too much.'

Ron saved him from thinking of a reply. 'It's not like he gets much of a say in the matter, Mum.'

'But surely,' said Molly, casting a sideways glance towards Hermione, 'even the aurors should get some time off at Christmas…'

'He has time off,' said Ron, now jumping to Hermione's aid. 'He's just on call. You want Diagon Alley to get blown up and the investigation to put on hold until January?'

'Oh, Ron, stop,' scolded Hermione, though Harry noticed her give his arm a thankful pat.

'But you have the kids home for so little time,' insisted Molly. 'Surely you want to spend as much time with them as you could?'

Harry didn't have a reply. Around the table, each of his children were occupied. Lily was giggling with Xan and Louis, about what he didn't know. Albus was talking animatedly to Rose, who looked bored, which made Harry certain he was relaying her on the details of his trip to Aberdeen (something, of course, he had not done for his parents). James was barraging Fred with questions about where to find the cheapest ale in Eastern Europe. He wasn't sure how to tell Molly that he didn't think his children had much time for him.

Thankfully, however, Molly's attention was demanded by noise from the kitchen as the backdoor was thrown open. Teddy's voice called into the house, and from around the table the rest of the family called back. Teddy and Victoire appeared in the doorway, clinging to each other, their faces pink from the cold.

'Sorry we're late,' Teddy offered to the room. 'Got held up.'

'Oh, don't be sorry, Teddy, it's not a problem,' Molly assured them, rising from her seat to kiss their cheeks. 'Sit down, sit down. You both look frozen.'

Victoire was giggling as Molly conjured up seats for them. The couple refused to let go of each other as they squeezed into their seats beside Harry. Teddy poured them both glasses of mead with only one hand, as the other was busy clutching Victoire. Very vaguely, Harry could remember when himself and Ginny looked like that.

'What kept you two?' asked Fleur from across the table.

'Oh, let's not hound them,' said Molly affectionately. 'I'm just glad you both made it.'

'We were busy,' said Victoire, smiling. Across the table Dominique was looking repulsed. Victoire seemed not to notice; her eyes were fixed upon Teddy.

'Andromeda couldn't make it, Teddy?' asked Arthur, passing around the plate of potatoes.

'Afraid not,' said Teddy. 'Thought she ought to stay at home with Narcissa.'

'Ah, of course,' said Audrey. 'Poor thing.'

Very few people around the table appeared to share in this sympathy; George scoffed audibly. Conversation broke out again and people returned to their food, no longer wanting part of the conversation. Harry remembered, before his children were born, his family had relished somewhat in post-war gossip when it was in regards to the Malfoys; now it was nothing more than exhausting.

'You both are very good, going to visit the two of them today,' Molly said to Victoire and Teddy.

'Oh, that's not where we were,' replied Victoire.

'Vicky, have some mead,' said Teddy.

Victoire accepted the glass of mead he offered her and inclined to kiss his cheek in thanks.

'Oh my _god_ ,' said Xan loudly from across the table. 'Vicky, what is that _thing_ on your finger?'

The conversation died once more as eyes snapped around to look at Victoire. Lily shrieked. Albus dropped his fork. Fleur clapped her hand to her mouth. Molly's eyes immediately filled with tears.

'Teddy, you _idiot!_ ' cried Louis.

The hand with which Victoire had accepted the mead was adorned with a glittering, white diamond. Teddy looked somewhat abashed, but Victoire raised up the hand, inspecting the ring, as if she had only just noticed it. She was very good at this look, Harry knew; this clueless sort of teasing, though she, of course, had been hoping for someone to notice.

There was a flurry of movement from all around the table as people got to their feet to envelop the couple. Harry was very nearly knocked out of his seat as Fleur swooped upon her daughter, pulling her into a hug, before grabbing hold of Teddy and kissing both his cheeks.

'I wanted to ask you first,' Teddy said to Bill as the latter pulled the former into a hug. 'We were going to wait until _after_ dinner-'

'Oh, stop it, Teddy,' said Victoire, giving his arm a light slap. 'As if he was going to say no!'

'Drinks!' was apparently the only thing Molly could manage to say. 'Arthur, go fetch the mead! The good mead, the nice mead-'

'You don't serve us the nice mead, Gran?' asked James. 'Only when these idiots come over?'

Ginny looked up from inspecting Victoire's ring to say to James, 'Eat before you have another glass.'

'I've only had one, Ginny.'

Ginny looked unconvinced, but she refrained from protesting further when Arthur returned with a bottle of mead and made a rotation of the room, refilling the glasses.

'Arthur, just half a glass for her, please,' said Hermione, when he reached Rose.

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Why?'

'Because we let you have one when we arrived.'

'I'm not going to die from two glasses of mead.'

Hermione dismissed the topic by turning to Victoire and Teddy and asking about wedding plans. Rose accepted her half-glass of mead with an unhappy thank you. Once everyone's glass had been refilled, cheers had been said, and glasses had been chinked in celebration, they returned to their food.

'So, Teddy,' said Audrey, 'tell us how you asked.'

Teddy smiled, though Harry could see the discomfort in his dark eyes. This was unlike Teddy, Harry thought; he was very rarely bashful.

 _How would you know?_ he asked himself, suddenly vicious. _How do you know what he's like anymore?_

'Oh, he was very sweet,' said Victoire, when Teddy didn't answer. 'He was so nervous. We were at his place last night, and his flat mates were out, and I could tell he wanted to tell me something, but he didn't know how…'

As Victoire continued, Harry tried to tell himself not to feel guilty. Teddy had his own life now: he was twenty-three; he had friends and a partner and a flat and a life that Harry wasn't part of. He hadn't truly been part of his godson's life in years, and soon he would find himself in the same predicament with his own children.

Harry watched Teddy eating his dinner as well as he could with only one hand; the other was still interlaced with Victoire's. Victoire wasn't even attempting to eat; she was too busy gesticulating with her free hand, recounting the story of their how Teddy proposed. Her ring glittered as she brandished her wine glass, sending glittering light dancing against the family photos on the wall.

'It's a nice ring,' Harry said to Teddy.

'It was my mum's,' said Teddy. 'Nan told me it was Dad's grandmother's before hers. Nan was saving it for me.'

Harry had nothing to say to this, and so he nodded. He drank his mead before asking, 'How's Andromeda?'

'Yeah, good,' said Teddy, and he grinned. 'Happy about the wedding.'

'I haven't seen to her in a while,' said Harry. 'You and she and Victoire should come round for dinner. To celebrate.'

Teddy cocked an eyebrow. 'Can you fit us into your busy schedule?'

Teddy said this with a smile, no accusation in his voice, though Harry still felt a pang of shame. 'Well, it's not every day you get engaged.'

'If I knew you'd make some time for me I would have asked Vicky years ago.'

'How long have you been planning to ask?'

Teddy looked bashful again. 'I didn't plan, I just sort of – did it.'

'That's very like you.'

'Pretty much. Nan gave me the ring when Vicky finished school.'

'That long ago?'

'Yeah, and I just laughed. I told her not to get ahead of herself but… You know. I would have been pretty thick if I never asked, don't you think?'

Teddy grinned. He somehow looked younger than he had in a long time. It occurred to Harry that he should say something better; something bigger. Something about Teddy's parents or grandfather or how it had felt when Harry had watched him board the Hogwarts Express for the first time, but all of these things seemed too immense to be expressed aloud.

'I'd say so, yes,' was all he could say.

Teddy smiled again and picked up his fork, returning to his meal. For whatever reason Harry was finding it hard to look at him, and so he turned away to watch Ginny from across the table. She caught his eyes when he turned to her and he knew she had been listening to him and Teddy talking. She smiled when their eyes met; it wasn't a smile meant for him, but rather one of commendation for Teddy. She then turned away to speak to Angelina, but Harry found he didn't want to stop looking at her.

She had never had an engagement ring; she had told him she didn't need one. He had asked her to marry him as they lay on a mattress on the floor of Grimmauld Place. It was three weeks after the war had ended and she had laughed and asked him if he was serious. He had told her he was and she had told him she would. There wasn't much more to say to each other after that.

'Harry, dear, are you finished?'

He looked up. Molly was standing over him, levitating a stack of dirty plates over her shoulder. He thanked her and she took his plate. A few minutes later Molly returned from the kitchen with an enormous plum pudding. He realised he had no interest in eating, and instead reached for another glass of mead.

'Actually, Gran, that was delicious,' he heard James saying from across the table, 'but I'll have to decline. I have another engagement.'

Ginny didn't miss this, and she said sharply, 'Another engagement? James, it's Christmas dinner.'

But as the rest of the table helped themselves to pudding, James was already getting to his feet. Ginny looked around at her husband. Harry knew this was his queue to intervene.

'James,' he said, 'where else do you have to be?'

'I don't _have_ to be anywhere. I go where I please, Harry.'

'And where is it that you please?'

'Lee and Alicia are away. We have to capitalise on the opportunity while we can.'

'You're going to Finlay's _again_?' sighed Ginny. 'You saw him last night. Isn't he sick of you?'

'Ginny, it's Christmas. Would you have him spend it alone?'

'He's very welcome here, of course,' offered Molly, and Arthur nodded in agreement.

'You're too sweet, Gran,' said James. 'But I did promise I'd go to his place.'

Harry could see Ginny eyeing her son venomously as he stooped to kiss both of his grandparents goodbye. Harry knew, had they not been in the company of others, Ginny wouldn't have let it rest so easily, but as it was she said to her son, 'If the Jordan's house isn't anything but immaculate when they get back, don't think I won't tell them you're responsible.'

'Noted,' said James, and he kissed her cheek.

Harry watched him make a round of the table, bidding goodbye to the rest of the family, before he reached Teddy and Victoire. James clapped Teddy heavily on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry, you two. My deepest condolences. You were both so young.'

Victoire laughed. 'James, please. I know you're a romantic at heart.'

'I know. I just always thought Teddy could do better.'

Smiling, Victoire gave her cousin's hand a smack before she gave him a hug. 'Give my love to Finlay.'

'I don't think it will mean the same coming from me. Night, Harry.'

'Get the Knight bus home if you're drinking,' Harry replied.

'Where's the fun in that?'

'James.'

'Harry.'

Harry sighed. 'Leave before I stop you.'

'Good luck,' said James, before he raised his arm to the room. 'Bye, you lot.'

There was a chorus of goodbyes and wishes of Merry Christmas from around the table. James left the room, conversation resumed, and the backdoor slammed shut. Harry listened, very carefully, for the sound of James disapparating, before he refilled his glass of mead.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a strange man. Scorpius was sure there was nobody who would refute that. Most people of his age were strange, Scorpius knew; it was a given for people who had been at Hogwarts in 1998, but surely his father surpassed them all in his strangeness.

The things his father chose to pick him up on astounded him. His convictions checked all the boxes for _conservative_ so thoroughly that had it been anyone other than his father, Scorpius may have suspected he was doing so satirically.

He rolled over in bed to face the mirror on his dresser. Sitting up, he inspected his overgrown fringe, pushing it back from his eyes. Who in the world other than his father had enough free time to worry about the length of someone's hair?

There was an overdue rap on the door. Draco had apparently been waiting until his mother was asleep, but Scorpius knew it was coming; he had behaved unduly in front of his grandmother, and it wasn't going to be ignored.

'Yes?' he called across the room.

The door cracked open to reveal his mother's bright, olive face. He immediately regretted his coldness and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 'Mum.'

'Hello, darling.'

'Are you alright?'

'Oh, yes, darling, why wouldn't I be?' He chose not to answer and Astoria crossed the room to lower herself into the dragon-hide armchair that sat beside his bed. 'Did you have a good Christmas?'

'Course. Did you?'

'Yes, it was just lovely.'

Scorpius felt the tiniest twinge of irritation. Just as he marvelled at how his father had enough spare time to be so thoroughly critical, he could not fathom how his mother had enough patience (or perhaps it was naivety) to be so cheerful under very nearly any circumstances.

He looked back to the boy in the mirror and told himself _don't do it._

He told himself this often, and it was a matter of circumstance how _it_ was to be translated. _It_ could mean to hold his tongue around his dorm-mates. _It_ could mean not to seek out Zaina when he was in the mood to argue. _It_ could mean not to turn on his heel and tell James Potter and Finlay Jordan or whoever else was staring at him on that particular morning to fuck off.

More often than not, _it_ meant snapping at his father; _it_ meant speaking all the things he could never speak of to his parents; _it_ meant abandoning the carefully orchestrated façade of calm he had cultivated.

'When did you find out?' he asked.

He had done it.

'About what, darling?' replied Astoria.

'That you were pregnant again.'

Oh.' Astoria paused, as if to try to remember, but Scorpius knew she was choosing her words carefully. 'A few weeks ago.'

'And you were… waiting to tell us at Christmas?'

He hadn't intended for it, but by the look on his mother's face he knew his voice had betrayed his dismay. She gave him a sorry look. 'I wanted to tell you sooner of course, darling. But after what happened last time we wanted to wait until we knew everything was okay.'

'So, everything's okay?'

'Of course. The baby's very healthy.'

He couldn't look at her for the next question, and so he raised his eyes gaze to the cornices on the ceiling. 'What about you, though?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean… you're healthy, right?'

'Oh, of course, darling. You don't have to worry about that. The healer's kept a very close eye on me, and they let me know when it would be safe to start trying again.'

'But they said that last time, and then you got really sick. I thought you weren't going to try again after what happened in August. You said you didn't want to.'

'Scorpius,' said Astoria slowly, 'I shouldn't have said that. I was upset – it's very hard, you see. It happened so suddenly – I wasn't expecting it. I didn't think I could go through that again, but then with a little time and perspective… your father and decided it was something we really wanted. It was something we had to do. We've always wanted more children – we always intended for you to have siblings, and now you finally can.'

'So, you and Dad decided?' said Scorpius. 'Or was it just him?'

'Scorpius…'

'I just don't see – I don't see why it matters so much. Why do you want more kids?'

'Scorpius, you know you're everything I've ever wanted. Please don't doubt that.'

He found it hard to meet her eyes and so he looked away. He felt very young. 'It's not about that.'

'But it's true, Scorpius.'

'I'm not a kid, Mum. I'm not _jealous,_ I'm… I'm going to go for a walk.'

'Darling, it's freezing outside.'

'I told Zaina I'd go see her.'

'Now? But it's late, darling – '

'She'll be waiting. I have to go.'

His mother protested no further and he left his bedroom. The manor was silent as he trailed down the stairs to the ground floor. He knew, hidden from view, the elves were still working, cleaning up the remnants of the day's festivities. He hoped they believed their masters had enjoyed it; he hoped they didn't know their hard work was for nothing.

He didn't have a coat, but it didn't deter him. He eased open the manor's front doors and stepped outside. The cold was a welcome relief; it seemed to slow him down somehow. He shut his eyes, breathing deeply, willing himself to be calm. He didn't want to upset his mother.

There were footsteps behind him and he looked around. His father stood in the doorway, frowning, his traveller's cloak wrapped around him. 'What are you doing out here?'

'Going to see Zaina,' said Scorpius. In truth, he had no intention of going to see her; he had only wanted to escape his mother, but maintaining the lie seemed easier than explaining this to his father. 'Where are you going?'

'It's cold out. You can't go all the way to Norfolk. Your mother will want you in.'

'Won't she want you in, too?'

Draco didn't answer. Scorpius knew he hadn't intended to meet any opposition on the way out of the house. His father seemed to decide upon confronting this opposition by changing the conversation.

'How is Zaina?' he asked.

'Fine.'

'She's a nice girl,' said Draco. 'I like her father. He's a good man.'

 _He doesn't think the same of you_.

When Scorpius offered no reply, Draco stepped forward, gazing out into the garden. 'I'm very glad you have her in your house,' said Draco. 'It's good to have old families still at the school.'

'Why are you doing this?'

Draco looked at him. 'Doing what, Scorpius?'

'To Mum. Why are you making her do this?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Yes, you do,' said Scorpius. He could feel himself shaking, but it wasn't from the cold. 'Don't you think I realise what happened in August? She was sick – really sick. Neither of you bothered to tell me, but I knew.'

'Scorpius, you've misunderstood. You mother is in perfect health-'

'You've been doing this for so long,' insisted Scorpius. 'Ever since I was little. When are you going to give up?'

'Scorpius, I…' Draco's voice seemed to fail him. Once again, Scorpius could see him arguing with himself internally, before he settled on a different approach. 'You were being rude tonight, Scorpius. You didn't congratulate your mother, and not to mention the robes – '

'Oh, the _robes_ ,' snapped Scorpius. 'What does it matter?'

'It's Christmas. Things like this matter to your grandmother. It's polite. It's tradition.'

'Yeah, tradition's so important she didn't even bother with a funeral for Lucius.'

Draco looked taken aback, before he recovered his anger. 'You cannot talk that way about your grandmother. You have no idea what it was like for her. She wanted a small memorial.'

'So small I didn't even get taken out of school?' snapped Scorpius. 'You don't care. You just want people to – to look at you and think, _Draco Malfoy with his perfect home and perfect wife and all their perfect children_.'

'I will not let you talk to me like this.'

'Do you care that she nearly died?' he demanded. 'Don't pretend that's not true. I'm not an idiot – I know what happened. All because of the miscarriage, and now you're making her do it all again. Just so you can have an heir who fits your expectations better than I do.'

Draco fastened his cloak and turned towards the steps. 'You are being a child, Scorpius. Go to bed.'

'Where are you going?' Scorpius demanded.

'Go to bed.'

He stepped in front of his father. 'Where are you going?'

'To see my father.'

This shut him up. He didn't know how to argue with that, and so he stepped aside. He didn't know where this referred to; he didn't know where is grandfather was buried. He hadn't bothered to ask; he didn't want to know, and his father apparently didn't want to talk about it. This was the first reference his father had made to such a grave in Scorpius's presence.

'I want you in bed when I return,' Draco warned him, 'and I don't want any more talk of this rubbish.'

* * *

'I just don't know how she feels.'

'What's there to know?'

'Well, like, does she – does she like me?'

'Check.'

'But how do I check?'

' _Check_ , Al. Move your king.'.

'Oh, right. Sorry.'

After dinner the family had spread out throughout the house or ventured out into the chilly garden to play Quidditch. Rose and Albus had tucked themselves away in the breakfast nook with their grandfather's chess board. Rose was close to her third win.

Albus reached for his king, tilting it back and forth, torn between moves. Frowning, he looked back at Rose.

'I just don't know.'

'Put it next to the knight.

'No, I mean – about Mei.'

'Oh, please, Al. Can we stop talking about this? She likes you, okay? She wouldn't have invited you to Aberdeen if she didn't like you.'

'But we didn't like – share a room.'

'Did you want to?'

'Well, before I got there I was kind of hoping we wouldn't. I was really nervous. But once we got there and I relaxed a bit I started to think that I – that it would might have been nice.'

'Has she slept with anyone before?'

'I don't know.'

'You haven't asked her?'

'No… Should I?'

'You've never talked about that with her?'

'Well, no but – but she told me I'm the first boy she's brought home, so I guess that means she hasn't, right?'

Rose shrugged. 'Hopefully.'

'Hopefully?'

'Are you going to make your move?'

'Why hopefully?'

'Only because then she won't have very high expectations.'

'God, thanks.'

'What? It's not an insult. I'm just being realistic. It's never going to be good the first time.'

Albus gave a groan. 'I should have just done it with Cassie… gotten it out of the way.'

'Just move it to the left, would you?'

'I thought I liked Cassie so much, because I was always so scared around her – and now I've realised I felt like that because I didn't even know her. And now I like Mei like – like properly, and I don't know how to do _anything_ , and I wasted my chance with Cassie-'

'Cassie's not a doll for you to practice with,' said Rose sharply.

'I didn't mean it like that! I only mean – I like Mei and I don't want to ruin it.'

'It takes more than bad sex to ruin a relationship.'

'How would you know?'

'Everyone knows that except you. You're making too much of a big deal out of it.'

'You've never dated anyone,' he reminded her irritably, 'and you've only had sex once.'

Rose scowled and then recovered. 'Still more than you.'

They were glaring each other when the door opened and Teddy stuck his head in. If Teddy sensed the tension between them, he gave no indication. 'Molly wants everyone in the living room. We're having tea and Schnaps. Well, _you_ two aren't having Schnaps, because you're babies.'

Rose and Albus rolled their eyes in unison as Teddy went to the back door to call in Xan, Fred, Louis and Hugo from their Quidditch game. They made there way to the noisy living room. There seemed to be three conversations being conducted in isolation, half-yelled over the sound of Celestina Warbeck playing on the wireless. One conversation about Quidditch, one about the Ministry, and one about Victoire's ring. Not wanting any part in any one of the three, Albus and Rose settled themselves down on the floor in the corner.

The room got considerably louder when the Teddy returned with Xan, Fred, Louis and Hugo in tow, bickering about the game they had braved the cold and the darkness to conduct. Teddy stood in the doorway, scanning the room. Seeing that Albus and Rose were the only two not immersed in conversation, he approached and asked, 'Where'd Dom gotten to?'

They told him they didn't know.

Teddy looked more perturbed than such a response warranted. He frowned at them. 'I told Molly I'd get everybody in. Now I'm going to be a liar. Where'd she go after dinner?'

They again told him they didn't know. He looked more worried still, before he left the room again. The door opened once more to permit Molly, Audrey and Lucy, each carrying trays of drinks and passing them around the room.

'I can't wait until I can apparate,' said Rose, quietly enough so only Albus could hear. 'James and Dom get to sneak off. Why can't we?'

'Remember how fun this used to be?' Albus whispered back to her. 'It was the most exciting day of the year. When did that change?'

'Anyone over the age of twelve who gets excited about Christmas needs to reassess their life.'

'Maybe if Teddy and Victoire have kids it will make it seem less… pointless.'

'Don't joke. Toddlers would make it worse.'

'Tea?'

They looked up at Lucy who had stopped before them, brandishing two tea cups at them.

'Where'd the Schnaps get to?' asked Rose.

Lucy glared at her. 'Your mum said –'

'I know what she said, Lucy. It was a joke. Thanks for the tea.'

The seat Lucy had had beside her sister had been usurped by Louis while she passed around the tea, and so the head girl sufficed to sit down on the floor with Rose and Albus. They sipped their tea in silence, listening to Celestina Warbeck crooning from the wireless.

'Oh, by the way, Rose,' said Lucy, accepting a mince tart from a plate Bill was offering around, 'I've had to rearrange the patrol schedule. Mei doesn't want to be paired with you anymore.'

Albus seemed to take this news much more badly than Rose did; he gagged on is mince tart while Rose merely shrugged and sipped her tea.

'Fine,' she said. 'Who am I with, then?'

'Well, it's hard finding someone to switch her with. It would be much easier if you two could just get along, but I suppose I can't blame her.' Lucy said this thoughtfully, as if she was completely unaware that had she been talking to anyone but Rose, this could have been a bruising statement. 'I've had to find someone with a similar schedule to you, so the only person I could think of was Scorpius Malfoy.'

It was Rose's turn to gag. She choked on her tea, spluttering into her mug, and Albus gave her a heavy whack on the back.

'Malfoy?' croaked Rose once she had recovered. 'I can't patrol with Malfoy.'

'Why not?'

'He's a prat, Lucy.'

'Well, it's only one night a week and there's no one else you can be paired with.'

'Lucy, I refuse,' said Rose firmly. 'I just refuse. I am not spending my evenings with that arse.'

'Well, take it up with Neville then. It's not my fault Mei Zhao can't stand you,' Lucy told her irritably, and to put the matter to rest she got to her feet and moved across the room to inspect Victoire's ring.

'I don't believe this,' hissed Rose.

'Now you can keep an eye on him, Rosie,' chortled Albus. The look Rose gave him wiped any hint of a smile from his face. He sipped his tea hurriedly.

'I'm going to Neville,' said Rose. 'I can't spend a whole term with that idiot.'

'It's only one night a week?'

'How would you like to spend one night a week with Emory Vane?'

'Well, not much but… but Malfoy isn't as bad as Vane.'

'And what are you basing that on?'

'Well, just… Malfoy's… not so mean.'

' _Mean?_ Who cares if he's _mean_. He's an arrogant, self-assured, snobby little brat.'

Albus laughed again. 'That's funny.'

'It is _not_ funny.'

'Well, it _kind_ of it. You always used to tell me I had no reason to hate him, and that I didn't even know him, and now that we know him it's _you_ that hates him. Don't you think it's kind of funny?'

'No, I don't.'

'Come on, Rosie. If it was happening to anyone else you'd find it funny.'

Rose watched him sipping his tea, before saying very quietly, 'I hope you die a virgin.'

Albus slopped tea down his shirt in surprise. He glanced hurriedly around to check nobody was listening, before he rounded on Rose to retort, but he was never given the chance. There was a chorus of gasps and shrieks around the room and Albus and Rose spun in their places to look around. A silver lynx had materialised in the centre of the room, poised in mid-air. It's mouth opened and the voice of the Minister for Magic echoed around the room.

 _'_ _Harry, Hermione – there's been an attack on the Ministry. Seven confirmed dead, maybe more. Come immediately.'_

There were more gasps, more shrieks. Somebody dropped their tea cup and it shattered to the floor. Harry got to his feet, and then Hermione, and then the room was full of movement.

* * *

Nobody had noticed her slip away from dinner. Nobody noticed her do anything. Nobody ever had and nobody ever would. She was a figure in the background of a photo. She was what people caught in the corner of their eye and thought it to be Victoire before they looked at her properly. _That's not Victoire. She's nothing like Victoire._

What misdeeds had she committed in another life to land her here, in the old bathroom with nothing but a staircase guarding her from those people she called her family? Those people who didn't love her and couldn't love her because she wasn't like them – she was different; she was diminished; she was lacking. She was not welcome, she was not missed, she was not Victoire.

 _You'll be like her one day,_ she used to tell herself, _but when?_ When will a boy love her? She must try harder; she must be stronger; she must be better, softer, kinder. She must be different.

She raised a hand to the pendant around her nick. It was making her feel ill. How stupid and happy and foolish she had been when he had given it to her. How pathetic being hopeful was. Had she really believed he would look at her when Victoire was in the foreground? Would anyone ever look at her when Victoire within reach?

There was a knock at the door and she pulled herself back down to earth. Somebody had finally noticed she was missing – or perhaps they just needed to use the bathroom. She had to compose herself; to bite it back like she always did. She turned on the bathroom tap and steadied her voice. 'Just a minute.'

'There's tea downstairs if you want it.'

She hadn't heard Teddy's voice sound like that before. It was strange, and distant, and inexplicably sad. She wanted to look at him; to see how he looked when his voice sounded like that. She turned off the tap and opened the door.

She hadn't expected to find him so close. He was right in the doorway, standing over her, his dark eyes fixed upon her. She couldn't remember ever being so close to him. It was too much to bear, and so she took a step back.

He didn't look bothered, nor did he look surprised. He continued to stare at her, and without knowing how she knew it she said to herself, _He's not happy_.

'I wanted to tell you,' he said to her, his voice low enough to ensure it wouldn't travel downstairs. 'I really wanted to.'

A smarter person than herself would have pretended not to know what this meant, but she had never been smart. 'Why didn't you?'

'I didn't know how.'

And suddenly there were tears in her eyes. There was no way to pretend she wasn't crying, and so she didn't fight to stop her voice breaking when she asked, 'Why'd you give me the necklace?'

He stared at her before giving his head a slow shake. 'I don't know.'

He stepped towards her and this time she held her ground. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore: there was no way to hide it anymore. His eyes stayed fixed on her and she raised her head to look up at him, and he was inches from her, and she willed it to happen, for what purpose she didn't know, but she knew it would hurt Victoire. Perhaps that would feel good; perhaps it would make it hurt less.

Perhaps Victoire didn't even need to know; it would be her secret and Teddy's secret. They would share something that Victoire would not, just as Victoire had shared a world and a life with Teddy that she herself knew nothing of, but she could take that life and walk into it right now if only she had the courage. She could feel his lips on hers if she had the courage, if she could lean into him, or he would lean into her, and she could touch him, and how would she kiss him, and what would it be like to kiss him, and was she going to find out?

But she shouldn't. She couldn't. She didn't want to. He was a stranger who loved beautiful women, a face across a crowded office, a laugh at the end of the dinner table that made her heart race.

She flinched away from him, and all at once it was broken. He was staring at her, bewildered, and then horrified, and then backing away, shaking his head in disbelief, realising what he had been about to do.

'I didn't…'

'I know,' she said.

'We didn't… I can't…'

'I know, Teddy.'

'Dom…'

They both jumped at the footsteps ascending the staircase. He took another step away from her, panicked, spinning in his place to see Victoire appear at the top of the stairs. She was shaking. Dominique's stomach turned – of course Victoire would know.

'Teddy,' she said to him.

'Vicky… I…'

'We have to go,' she said, and she grabbed his hand. 'There's been an attack.'

Teddy said nothing. He was gazing at Victoire in shock. 'An – what? What do you mean?'

'On the Ministry. Dad says we need to go home. They've stopped the Floo network. Dommy, come on.' And with her other hand she seized Dominique, leading them down the stairs to the sound of frantic footsteps.

* * *

Godric's Hollow was soft and still and silent. Snow drifted slowly onto their shoulders, bare tree branches grazed against rooftops. A long way in the distance, someone was playing Christmas carols with their window open. It was uneasy in its tranquillity, as if they had somehow stepped away from the rest of the world. Their hurried movements seemed intrusive against the peace of the village.

Ginny kept her hands clasped around their forearms as she steered them to the front door, forcing them inside and locking the door after them.

'Can we turn the radio on?' asked Lily.

'Should we go get James?' asked Albus.

Ginny turned to look at the pair of them. 'Go upstairs.'

'I want to hear what happened,' said Lily.

'What is James tries to Floo home and he can't?' said Albus.

'I sent him a Patronus,' said Ginny. 'He's safer staying at Finlay's.'

'We should be allowed to listen to the radio,' insisted Lily. 'You knew what was going on when you were my age.'

'No, I didn't.'

'But if there's a war starting –'

'Lily, that's ridiculous,' Ginny snapped. 'This isn't a war, this is – this is very sad. I just want us all to go to bed. Dad will tell you what happened in the morning.'

'He will not,' countered Lily. 'He never tells us anything.'

'I'll make sure he does this time.'

'No, you won't.'

'Lily, I promise I will,' said Ginny, and she raised her hand to her daughter's shoulder. 'But right now, I really want us to all to get some sleep.'

The pleading in his mother's voice made it impossible to argue further. Lily was frowning but she seemed convinced as she allowed her mother to take her hand and direct her towards the stairs. He knew she wanted to protest further, but she contained herself. He went to his bedroom without another word to them. He climbed into bed, still in his trousers and sweater, and turned off the light. He listened to Ginny and Lily talking in the next room, heard them whisper their goodnights to each other, before he heard Ginny's footsteps approaching his door. She cracked it open.

'You asleep?' she whispered through the darkness.

'Not yet.'

She paused in the doorway, silhouetted against the light in the passageway. 'Are you alright, Ducky?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?'

'Course,' she told him. 'Dad should be home soon.'

'Okay.'

She hesitated as if she wanted to say something, but she seemed to decide against it. 'Love you, Al.'

'Love you, too.'

She shut the door. He lay still, once again listening to her footsteps, waiting until he heard her reach her bedroom and shut the door. He reasoned twenty minutes would be enough time to allow his mother to fall asleep, or at the very least long enough for her to have given up listening for the sound of footsteps.

* * *

'We're going to have to tell them something soon.'

'They can wait.'

'Harry, they can't. If it looks like we're covering it up – '

'We're not covering it up. They haven't been dead an hour.'

Hermione was silent. He pretended not to see her wiping her eyes. He didn't want to comfort her – he didn't know how. In his head he was running over a list of names of the aurors who had been on duty that evening. He didn't have room to think of much.

The curse-breakers had been called in to assess the damage. They were stood at the mouth of the ruined atrium, working to clear the rubble. He had tried to help, but he had been shooed away.

'They haven't assessed the structural damage,' Dennis had informed him when he arrived. 'Leave it to the professionals. They'll let us go in when they know there'll be no further collapses.'

There had been twenty-five aurors on call that evening. Seven were dead; that was a fact. Eighteen more were trapped in the lower levels of the Ministry. Their families were waiting up on street level, barred from entering. He had been told it could take as long as twelve hours to inspect the rest of the building.

Movement behind him caused him to stir. He spun around, reaching for his wand, to find Kingsley gazing at him. Harry knew the look in his eyes; he was pitying him. His Deputy Ida Bones stood beside him, wearing her cloak over her nightgown and visibly trembling.

'I'm going to make a statement,' said Kingsley. 'Bring the press up to speed.'

Hermione nodded, but Kingsley's eyes were fixed on Harry.

'I want you to give the okay,' Kingsley said to him. 'They were your people.'

'There's no sense in waiting,' was all he could manage.

'What are you going to tell them?' asked Hermione.

'The truth,' said Kingsley. 'That there's been an attack on the Ministry. I'm not going to get into the habit of keeping things from people. That's not how it's going to work this time.'

 _'_ _This time_ ,' murmured Hermione, and Harry saw her eyes fill with tears once more.

* * *

'Rosie?'

'Yes?' she said over the music.

'Are you awake?'

It was a stupid question, but she decided not to tell him this. 'Yes.'

The door opened to reveal her brother. He was in his pyjamas and had tied his ringlets back from his face to sleep. He stood in the doorway looking at her, frowning and biting his lip, and he cast an appraising look around her bedroom. 'You haven't unpacked your trunk,' he concluded.

'We're only home for another week.'

This deepened Hugo's frown. He rested his head against the doorframe and folded his arms. 'What are you reading?'

' _To the Lighthouse._ '

'What's it about?'

'Nothing, really.'

'Do you want me to go away?'

'No, it really is about nothing. Come in if you want to.'

He didn't take much persuasion. He shut the door behind him and sat himself down at the foot of her bed, hugging his knees to his chest. She turned the page of her book, waiting for him to speak.

'Dad's sleeping,' he told her. 'He said we could listen to the Quidditch replay until I fell asleep, but I'm not tired.'

'Mmm.'

'Do you think Mum will be home soon?'

'Probably not.'

'What do you think happened?'

'Don't know.'

'Why do they want to attack the Ministry?'

'Not sure.'

'Do you think it was the same people who killed Gustav Gamp?' he asked her. 'And who vandalised Diagon Alley, and who set the fire in Hogsmeade…'

'I don't think anyone knows yet,' she told him as patiently as she could. 'But I'm sure when they find out it will be all over the _Prophet_.'

'Do you think Mum's in danger?'

'No, course not,' she said, much more certainly than she felt.

She knew this was what Hugo had been hoping to hear and so he gave a nod. 'Can I sit in here for a bit?'

'Yep.'

'Can I put the Quidditch on?'

She looked up at him. He was eyeing her wireless greedily. She very much wanted to say no, but she decided against it. 'Okay.'

He grinned broadly and slid from the foot of her bed to change the station. The music died away and the harsh rattle of a Quidditch match came on.

'Turn it down a bit,' she instructed.

'Sorry.' He obliged.

'Here,' she said, and she drew back the covers, shifting over in her bed to allow a space for him.

She knew he was pleased with his. He clambered in beside her and settled down against her pillow, turning on his side to gaze at the wireless as the Quidditch match muttered away. 'If I fall asleep in here, is that okay?' he asked her.

'Yeah.'

'Thanks, Rosie.'

* * *

It was one in the morning before the wireless had anything of substance to report. With the fire dancing in the hearth, he lay across the couch, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for; whether it was for his father to return home, or whether it was word from James, or whether it was to hear an update from the radio. He only knew that to stay in his bedroom battling to fall asleep was futile, and so he had crept as quietly as he could downstairs to the living room and turned on the wireless.

' _We've just been told the Minister's going to make a statement_.'

Up until now, it had been nothing but speculation The _Prophet_ reporters had been on the scene as soon as the Floo network went down, but they knew even less than he did. They had announced over the wireless that they had been barred from entering the Ministry and had been forced to conceal themselves on the Muggle street awaiting direction from the Ministry officials.

But now, all of a sudden, the Minister was going to be on air. He felt strangely guilty; his mother wanted him asleep. But no matter what she had told Lily, he knew that she and their father had no intention of relaying the truth. He would need to find out for himself.

There was the sound of static and movement on the other end of the wireless. He could hear reporters talking amongst themselves, hear the sound of many footsteps and many bodies jostling against each other, and then there was silence. Albus found himself holding his breath.

' _Good evening_ ,' came the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt through the wireless. _I'm sorry to have kept you waiting out in the cold. You will have noticed the Floo network has been suspended, but we have re-opened the lines now. I do appreciate the importance of making our knowledge available to the public as early as we can, and so for that I am grateful for your commitment_.'

There was another silence. When Kingsley spoke again, his voice was as strong and calm as ever. ' _I can confirm that there was an attack on the Ministry of Magic this evening. It appears the perpetrators forced their way into the atrium. There were twenty-five aurors in the building at the time – ten on the usual patrol shift and fifteen on call. I'm sorry to say all twenty-five have lost their lives.'_

There was another silence. The Minister was choosing his words carefully; allowing listeners and reporters respite to take in what he was sayign before he continued. ' _The exact nature of the attack is unknown at this point. We have aurors and curse-breakers investigating. For now all I can tell you is that we suspect the use of dark materials to break through the building's structure-'_

Something changed in the Minister's voice. It distorted, then dropped out, and then static rang around the room. Albus sat up, panicked. There was something wrong with the transmission. Had there been another attack at the Ministry? If Kingsley was meeting with the reporters then surely his father was with him…

And then the static disappeared. There was silence, and then another voice spoke, but it was not the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. It echoed around the living room, clearer and sharper than Kingsley's. Albus knew immediately it was being transmitted from somewhere else; somewhere silent where there was no Ministry and no reporters.

' _We interrupt your soon to be former Minister for this special announcement_ ,' proclaimed the voice. It was deeper than a voice should be, and Albus knew magic was distorting it. ' _While your Ministry scrambles to assure you that you are safe, let me make this clear: you are not safe. But, if you denounce the Minister and his regime, you have nothing to fear.'_

 _Shacklebolt's Ministry protects the inherited class structure that has kept Muggle-borns marginalised for as long as our country has stood._ _We are the Reclamation Army and we declare the end of Shacklebolt's regime. We declare this by murdering Gustav Gamp. We declare this by burning Hogsmeade's monument to bigotry to the ground. And tonight we are declaring war against Ministry of Magic. We demand the dissolution of a Ministry that serves Purebloods and keeps Muggle-borns oppressed. You have been warned, Shacklebolt: more deaths will come.'_

And then there was the screech of static and at once Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice returned as if there had been no interruption. He continued in his slow, calm, forceful proclamation.

' _I'd like to offer my deepest condolences to the families of the aurors who lost their lives protecting out nation…'_

It was almost like he had imagined it. It was almost as if he had conjured it in his head, but he knew that wasn't possible. The voice of the attacker was too real, too distinct, too ruthless. Albus felt ill. The Ministry was not yet aware their transmission had been hijacked. What else didn't they know?

' _We believe the number of deaths indicate that the aurors on call came to the aid of those standing guard. They gave their lives to…'_

Kingsley stopped. Albus looked at the wireless, his heart pounding. And then Kingsley continued, recovering. ' _…protect their fellows. And I'm sorry but that's all I have to say at this point. We're going to need you to clear the street…_ '

Kingsley's voice was suddenly drowned out as the reporters began to protest, bellowing their questions at the minister. Albus leant forward and turned the wireless off. He was plunged into silence, save for the fire crackling of the fire in the hearth. He drew in his breaths, short and laboured. Kingsley's haste to end his transmission meant that the Ministry had been made aware that their broadcast had been interrupted, but what hope did they have of finding who had hijacked the station?

He got to his feet. He couldn't sit still in longer. He couldn't think about any longer. He needed to move – he needed to think of something else. He went to the window to peer out into the garden. The snow was still falling, the tree branches still scraped against rooves. He shut his eyes, willing himself to stay calm.

'Albus?'

He jumped in his fright and spun in his place. There, in the fireplace, her head sitting in the middle of the flickering flames, was Mei. Her hair was pulled back from her face and she gazed up at him with wide, searching eyes.

'Mei.'

'Did I frighten you?'

He crossed over to the fireplace, dropping down onto the ground, lowering his voice. 'No, no, I just wasn't expecting it.'

'Were you listening to the radio?'

'Yeah, were you?'

She nodded. 'Mum and Adalric are asleep and I – I was hoping you were awake. I didn't mean to intrude.'

'You're not intruding,' he assured her. 'I'm glad you wanted to talk to me. I was just thinking how… how this is crazy. They – they said they were declaring war.'

Mei nodded, frowning in thought. 'I'm sure the Ministry will catch them.'

'You think so?'

'They must. Kingsley Shacklebolt is very competent.'

'Yeah, but – but they're obviously unprepared. I mean, they didn't even seem to realise the transmission had been intercepted until after it had dropped out.'

Mei's frown deepened. 'I trust the Ministry.'

'So do I – but… but they couldn't protect the aurors. How are they supposed to protect anyone else?'

Mei made to reply, but Albus threw out a hand to signal for her to be silent. He had heard movement from outside the living room door. 'I think my dad's home,' he whispered to her. 'I'm supposed to be in bed.'

'I'll go.'

'Yeah, but – but stay by the fire. I'll go check who it is and then I'll come back to say goodnight, okay?'

'Okay.' And her head disappeared from the flames.

Albus got to his feet and crossed the living room. He cracked open the door and the light from the fire bled into the foyer just well enough for him to see a figure ascending the stairs to the manor's second floor. In the darkness he couldn't make out the man's features, but by the haphazard way he had thrown his coat over his shoulders and by drunken way he walked, Albus recognised him as James.

'James,' he hissed across the foyer.

His brother appeared startled; James spun back around, peering through the darkness to the light of the living room. It seemed to take a moment for James to register what he was looking at. He raised a hand to tug his coat further around him. 'Al.'

Albus opened the door more fully and light bled into the foyer. James stood lopsidedly on the first step of the staircase; his face pale and his eyes unfocused from drinking ale. It occurred to Albus that James and Finlay would have had no reason to be listening to the radio.

'Did you hear what happened?' Albus asked.

James looked exhausted. He had his jacket thrown over his shoulders, not having bothered to pull it over his arms. His whole body was shaking from the cold. Albus wondered if he had managed to comprehend what he was being asked, until finally the older Potter shook his head.

'There was an attack on the Ministry.' Albus said this very quickly, as if that would help him not to think about what he was saying. 'Twenty-five aurors got killed.'

James's eyes widened. 'Dad-'

'No, Dad's fine,' Albus assured him breathlessly. 'But - but I was listening to the wireless, and the Minister was talking to reporters and then - all of a sudden the signal got taken over. By this voice - saying they were called the Reclamation Army, and the Ministry was protecting Purebloods, and that - that there'll be another war.'

James stared at him, the light of the fire flickering over his face. He adjusted himself, leaning all of his weight against the balustrade of the stairs, drawing his coat around his shoulders. 'Al,' he said slowly, 'I really want to sleep, okay?'

Albus stared up at his brother and shook his head. 'Did you hear what I just said?'

'Yeah.'

'Don't you get it?'

'I really, really don't want to talk right now, okay?' And he turned away.

Albus suddenly found himself flush with anger. He realised now this was what he had been waiting for; for James to return home. James had started up the stairs, slowly and timidly, focusing on every step he took. It was easy for Albus to step in front of him and block his path.

James looked up at him, confused. 'What, Al?'

'Where were you?'

'Just leave me alone, okay?'

'Tell me where you were.

'Just fuck off, Al, okay?'

James tried to sidestep him but his footing was too uneven. Albus stopped him easily, placing a hand on James's chest to force him back. James responded by raising one hand to give Albus a rough shove, pushing him aside, but Albus was determined. He grabbed hold of James's shoulder, pulling him back, and James gave a great yelp of pain.

Albus let go immediately. ' _James_ …'

James stumbled away from him in an attempt to free himself, clutching his arm to his chest. His coat slid off his shoulders in his haste and James caught it awkwardly, throwing it back over him, but he wasn't quick enough; Albus saw clearly what he had been trying to conceal with his coat. His arm was bent in a way Albus didn't know arms could bend, his elbow inverted, bone protruding through his bloodied flesh.

Albus's stomach turned. He looked at his brother in horror to find him wearing very much the same look.

'James…' he said again.

'It's alright,' James told him, clutching his mangled arm to his chest. 'I'll fix it, just… just go away. Please.'

Albus shook his head. He could feel his trhroat burning as if he was going to cry, and he hated himself for it. 'Alright?' he said in a very small voice. 'It's not _alright,_ James. What the fuck did you do?'

'Leave me alone, okay?'

It was only now that he could fully see the truth for himself. This was why he had been waiting for James; this was what he had been afraid of. When it had been a limp after the Hogsmeade fire, he had convinced himself not to think on it. He had been pretending he didn't know the truth, and he could no longer pretend. 'Why – how…'

'Al…'

' _Don't,'_ he spat, and he took a step away. 'I can't – you can't-'

'Keep you voice down,' James demanded. 'You're freaking out. It's fine. I'm going to fix it, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore, alright?'

Finally he felt the tears hit his cheeks. James shook his head, sighed, and muttered, 'Christ, Al.'

'I don't want to talk to you anymore.'

'I don't want to talk to you either.'

His head was spinning again. He was finding his brother sickening to look at, unclean and unwelcome in their home. He stepped off the staircase, turning away, retreating back to the living room.

'Don't tell Harry and Ginny,' were James's parting words, but Albus did not look back at him. 'Don't, okay?'

But Albus had shut the living room door. He heard James's footsteps start again, easing himself up the stairs to his bedroom. He sank down on the floor beside the fire place, breathing heavily, fighting back another bout of tears.

 _He didn't, he didn't, he didn't_. _He didn't mean to_.

He plunged his head into the flames. The world spun around him and when it solidified he found himself staring into the study of Mei's house, looking out across the room from the hearth. Mei was sitting in an armchair, waiting for him. She looked up when she heard the flames cracking.

'Is you dad back?' she asked, but after looking at his face she instead asked, 'What's happened?'

He shook his head. He wanted to explain, but all he could say was, 'James.'

'What's he done?'

But he couldn't tell her; he wouldn't. Even now, when he was so certain, he couldn't speak it aloud; speaking it aloud would make it real. 'I wish you were here,' he said to her.

She hesitated before glancing over her shoulder. 'My parents' bedroom is upstairs. You won't wake them if you come through.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes, come on.'

'But I – it's one in the morning.'

'Don't come if you don't want to.'

'I really do, I just..'

'Then come here.'

And so he pulled his head out of the frames, snapping back into the living room of Hecate Hall, before getting to his feet and stepping fully into the fireplace. He took a handful of floo powder, tossed it at his feet, and in an instant materialised in Mei's study. He stepped out of the grate to meet her, and she stepped forward to meet him, and he laced his arms around her.

They were silent for some time, holding each other, before he said into her hair, 'I didn't say Happy Christmas.'

'It's okay.'

'I really missed you.'

'You saw me yesterday.'

'Yes, but still.'

She pulled away to look at him. He could tell by the look in her eye she wanted to know what had happened, but he wasn't ready to tell her. She seemed to accept this and said, 'Let's go to my room.'

* * *

 **Song Credit:** _**Old Money**_ **by Lana Del Rey.**

 **A/N: This chapter is stupidly long and a kind of hate it. Even so, thank you if you made it this far! Please let me know what you thought in a review! x**


	12. Past Lives

_23/08/18_

* * *

 ** _Past Lives_** _  
Past lives couldn't ever hold me down  
Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found  
I've got the strangest feeling  
This isn't our first time around  
Past lives couldn't ever come between us  
Sometimes dreamers finally wake up  
Don't wake me, I'm not dreaming_

* * *

He had never seen her properly until now. Wrapped in the cacoon of her duvet, her arms around him, her skin luminous beneath the lamplight. He could count every freckle on her pristine face: eleven in total.

She ran her fingers over his forehead, brushing his fringe from his eyes, and said softly, 'Do you want me to turn the lights out?'

'I'll fall asleep if you do.'

'You can sleep here. It's okay.'

He shut his eyes, leaning into her. 'My mum will kill me.'

'She doesn't know you came over?'

He shook his head. 'She made Lily and I go to bed as soon as we got home from my grandparents'.'

'Where was James?'

He didn't want to answer this, and so he said, 'I wonder if there'll be a memorial.'

'I'm sure there will be. The Ministry will need do make some sort of gesture.'

'Why's that?'

'To make up for the deaths. The aurors died while trying to defend the Ministry. They should have had more protection.'

'But how could they have expected this? I mean, nothing like this has happened in years and years ago. Not since the war.'

'Yes, but anyone could tell that the tension around blood equality has been rising since Gamp died.' Mei caught the look in his eye and added quickly, 'Not that it's your father job. Shacklebolt should have done something sooner.'

His eyes travelled across her bedroom. He wondered if his parents would attend the memorial; he wondered if he would be expected to attend it. The thought of it made it hard to breathe. He didn't know anybody who had died; he didn't know how to behave around it. He didn't want to think about it; he didn't want to see what his parents had seen.

'Mei, how do you…'

When he trailed off she shifted, turning on her side to look at him. 'Yes?'

He stared back at her across the pillow. 'How do you… how do you get over… I mean, with your dad…'

He stopped talking, but knew that Mei had understood by the small "oh" she murmured. She was silent for several seconds, paused in thought, before in a small voice she spoke.

'You don't really get over it,' she told him. 'You just keep going. And things are different but… but it's not terrible.' She turned deep, brown eyes to look at him before continuing. 'You never really… I mean, it doesn't get better. You don't stop being sad about it but… but I think you can still be happy. Most of the time, at least.'

He saw now that she was crying, and he sat up, reaching for her hand. 'I'm sorry, Mei, we – we don't have to talk about this.'

She shook her head. 'No, it's okay. I don't mind.'

She fell silent and he gazed up at her; she had torn her eyes away from him as she spoke, and was now staring out across her silent bedroom and he followed her line of sight; the corkboard and the far room sat covered in photographs, her father and her in the centre, and he asked softly, 'What was your dad like?'

From the corner of his eye he saw her smile. 'He was… he was really funny. He laughed all the time – just about nothing. He used to say my mum worried enough for the pair of them. I do the same thing, I think. I can't remember if I was like that before he died. I was just little, I suppose. But I think… I don't know. Perhaps if he was still alive I'd be a bit more like him.'

Another silence ensued. He watched her wipe her eyes before she turned to look at him. 'Perhaps we should talk about something else. I'm not very good company when I get sad.'

'That's not true. You're always good company.'

She gave a hushed laugh and raised a hand to trace his chest. 'I like this sweater.'

He looked down at what he was wearing and thumbed the green wool. 'My grandmother makes them.'

'Was it a Christmas gift?'

'From a few years ago. She used to make me and my cousins new ones every year, but I think she realised we were getting too old for them. I worry if I don't wear mine she'll be offended, though.'

'It's the same colour as your eyes.'

'Yes, she does that on purpose.'

Mei was silent for a moment before she asked, 'That Chudley Cannons jumper of yours. You wore it on our first date, remember?'

'Yeah?'

'But you told me you don't like Quidditch.'

'Er – no.' The look in her eye told him she wanted an explanation, and so reluctantly he gave her one. 'It was my brother's. My dad likes flying, but he was raised by Muggles so he doesn't really follow any teams, so my Uncle Ron would take James and me to Cannons matches. I always hated it – it was always so loud and the crowd was always so aggressive. James loved it though, but the Cannons always lose, of course. So, he switched to following Puddlemore after the won the cup in 2012. And then the Harpies when they won the next year, and then Cork, and so on.'

'He doesn't have very strong principles, does he?'

'No, he doesn't.'

'So, you kept the sweater?'

'I found it up in some old boxes in the attic last summer and – and this is really stupid.'

'What is?'

'Well, when Cassie broke up with me I kind of – I kind of had an existential crisis. I just wanted to be – better. And I had this idea that I'd come back to school this year and I'd – I'd be _cool_. I'd be like – like funny and outgoing and good at Quidditch and…'

'And wearing old Quidditch sweaters was a part of that?'

Grinning, he shook his head. 'I suppose in some way I thought it was.'

Mei frowned and was silent for a few seconds' contemplation, before she said decidedly, 'You're much too tough on yourself.'

He reached for her hand and she responded by lacing her fingers through his before raising her free hand to wipe a tear from her eye. 'Thank you for letting me come over,' he said.

'Thank you for coming over,' she replied. 'I didn't expect to be so bothered by what happened at the Ministry but – but I suppose it's quite sad. My stepfather works there, you know? And if he had been there… I don't know how my mum would cope.'

'You don't have to say thank you,' he said. 'I'm glad I came. I'm glad you let me come over.'

'I did already say you can come whenever you like.'

'I know, I just... I suppose I'm worried you'll get sick of me.'

She shook her head. 'I don't imagine so.'

'Good.' He kissed her forehead before adding, 'I should go soon.'

She ran her fingers through his hair and said, 'Stay a bit longer.'

He tightened his grip on her and she shifted to kiss him. It was a long kiss, slow and soft. He said her name, and she murmured back to show she was listening. He didn't want to stop, but he knew that he had to. He pulled his lips away from hers, but kept her close, his forehead pressed against hers.

'Mei,' he said again.

'Yes?'

'I just… I've never had sex before.'

She didn't reply immediately, and his stomach gave a terrible turn; was he being presumptive?

'Neither have I,' she said finally. 'But it doesn't matter, does it?'

'No, I don't think so.'

And she began to kiss him once more.

'I really should go,' he said to her.

'You keep saying that, but you haven't left.'

'I don't want to.'

'Stay until the morning.' She shifted beside him, stretching his arm over his chest to reach for the alarm clock on her bedside table. 'We'll set an alarm. You can get home before your parents know you're gone.'

She settled back down beside him, placing her face in the crook of her neck, and he pressed his lips against her forehead. 'Okay.'

* * *

She woke early the next morning – early even for her. It was still dark outside her window and Hugo was snoring softly beside her. They had fallen asleep with the radio on and she could hear a song she didn't know playing faintly. She reached over to her bedside table to turn it off, moving as gently as she could so as not to wake her brother. She checked her alarm clock; it wasn't even six o'clock, but she knew there was no use trying to get back to sleep.

She tiptoed across her room and retrieved a jumper from her wardrobe. She had slept in the clothes she had been wearing the night before, black tights and a dress that she had gotten too tall for. She looked at herself in the mirror; her hair was a tangled mess, and rather than dealing with it she pulled it back from her face into a haphazard knot and left her bedroom.

As she came down the stairs she could hear hushed footsteps from the kitchen. She came to the door and stuck her head around the corner; her mother had her back the door, standing at the kitchen sink, gazing out the window into the overgrown garden as she washed a frying pan. Her father usually tended to most of the household chores; it was only when her mother's mind wanted a distraction that she did so, and at those times she never used magic, but only her hands.

Rose stood there watching her for a moment, wondering how long her mother had been at it. The frying pan looked spotlessly clean. She stepped into the room. 'Hi.'

Her mother jumped at the sound of her voice. The frying pan slipped from her hands into the soapy water, splashing the front of her robes. She rounded on Rose and immediately tried to compose herself. 'Oh, morning, darling. What are you doing up so early?'

Rose could see immediately that she had been crying. 'Hugo slept in my bed. He was snoring.'

Hermione gave a croaky laugh. 'That's sweet of you not to kick him out.'

Rose didn't have a reply, and so she crossed to the kitchen table and took a seat. 'What time did you get home?'

'About an hour ago. Do you want a cup of tea? I was about to put the kettle on.'

'You haven't slept?'

Hermione crossed to the stove top and set the kettle to boil before replying. 'I couldn't.'

'How many people died?'

Rose knew her mother didn't want to answer. Hermione turned back to the window and fished the frying pan out of the sink. 'You didn't hear the radio last night?'

'No.'

'Good. I was hoping Ron would put you both to bed.'

'He didn't _put me to bed_. I was listening to music. What happened?'

'It's Ministry business, Rosie.'

'But if it was on the radio, won't it be in the _Prophet_ too?' asked Rose. 'I can just read about it for myself if you don't want to tell me.'

Hermione looked vaguely amused. 'Is that a threat?'

Rose shrugged.

Hermione gazed at her daughter for several seconds before she too crossed the room to take a seat at the table. 'Rosie, you need to know that nothing's going to happen to us. We're very safe here, okay? And Hogwarts is equally protected.'

'I know,' lied Rose.

'I'll tell you what happened but I don't want you to worry, alright? Nothing's confirmed yet.'

'Okay.'

'There were twenty-five aurors stationed at the Ministry last night,' Hermione informed her. 'And they – they all passed away. There'll be a memorial the day after tomorrow.'

'How did they die?'

'We're not sure yet. They were trying to defend the Ministry. The attackers used some kind of dark materials, but the curse breakers haven't been able to identify what it was.'

'Why did they want to break into the Ministry?'

'We don't know that either.'

'They didn't – I don't know, ask for anything? Or make any demands? Or try to contact Kingsley in anyway?'

Hermione frowned at her. 'What makes you ask that?'

'I don't know. Why would they kill twenty-five aurors if they didn't want something?'

Hermione's frown deepened. She seemed to be contemplating her response. She gave a slow sigh before saying, 'They broadcasted over the WWN. They want Kingsley to resign.'

Rose's eyes widened. 'But he's not going to, is he?'

'No, of course not. The Ministry doesn't give into demands of criminals, Rose.'

'So, do you think they'll…' She stopped herself from saying _murder more people_. '…Target the Ministry again?'

'We don't know, Rosie. We're trying to find out.' Hermione got to her feet under the pretence of tending to the whistling kettle, but once she turned away Rose could see her wiping her eyes.

Rose knew it was a stupid question, but she asked anyway: 'Are you alright?'

Her mother gave a tearful laugh as she filled the teapot. 'Yes, Rosie, I'm fine. I just haven't slept.'

'You can go to bed. I'll bring you tea.'

'No, it's fine. I don't want to sleep yet.'

Rose watched her mother get out two mugs from the cabinet. She knew she should say something more, but she didn't know what. She settled upon, 'I'm sorry about the other day.'

Hermione looked at her. 'About what?'

'After we went out to get coffee. I was being a brat.'

'Oh,' said Hermione, pouring out their tea. 'Well, thank you, Rose. It's alright. But I do wish you wouldn't be so combative all of the time. If I've done something that's upset you can just tell me.'

'I know.'

Hermione returned to the table, setting down two mugs of tea. 'And I'm sorry I didn't tell you there would be aurors guarding the house. I was thinking if I didn't tell you it wouldn't bother you.'

Rose took her mug in her hands. 'It doesn't bother me. I get why they're there. I just don't see why you're not more honest about it.'

Hermione sipped her tea and set the mug back on the table before answering. 'I suppose I forget that you're getting older. You're hard to fool.'

Rose was silent for a moment. Her mother hadn't said a lot, but Rose somehow felt it was more than they had said to each other in a while. She watched as Hermione got to her feet to refill her cup of tea.'

'I had sex with Andrew.'

Halfway between the kitchen table and the counter, Hermione turned back to look at her. She was frowning, as if having not heard her properly, and Rose felt compelled to keep talking. 'The Muggle boy down the road. The one who thinks my phone's broken.'

Hermione continued to frown at her. She wearing the same expression she wore when she was called into the office on a weekend; a kind of unhappy intrigue. When she spoke her voice sounded very calm; it was strange to think she'd just been crying. 'I didn't know that.'

Rose found it difficult to look at her, and so she stared down into the depths of her mug. 'I know you didn't. I thought I'd tell you because – I don't know why, really.'

Without looking her, Rose watched from the corner of her eye as her mother re-joined her at the table. Rose heard her give a sigh of dismay, before she asked, 'Is he your boyfriend?'

'No.'

'Was he your boyfriend at the time?'

'No. Well, not really. I wouldn't say so.'

Hermione was silent. Rose knew she was trying to quell her disapproval. 'When was this?'

'In July.'

' _In July?'_ At the alarm in her mother's voice, Rose looked up at her _._ Hermione was watching her with a worried look on her face. 'Oh, Rose.'

'It was only one time. It wasn't a big deal.'

'It should be a big deal.'

Rose couldn't help but roll her eyes. 'You're so old fashioned.'

Hermione frowned. 'No, I'm not.'

Rose couldn't help but laugh at this.

'Rose, it's not funny.'

'It kind of is. I thought you'd be above being offended by being called old fashioned.'

'But I'm not old fashioned. Was he the first person you've slept with?'

'Yeah.'

'But he wasn't your boyfriend?'

'No. I mean, I did like him. At the time, at least. He was nice. He doesn't know you and Dad are famous which was…' She stopped to choose the right word: '...different. But afterwards I just – he just irritated me. As soon as we did it, I wanted to leave. I don't know why.'

Hermione's eyes softened and when she spoke her voice was far too gentle for Rose's liking. 'That happens. That's normal.'

'That's depressing.'

Hermione laughed. 'You're such a cynic, Rosie.'

'You always tell me that.'

'Yes, and it still surprises me. I've never know what to expect from you.'

Her mother had told her this on several occasions, but she had not yet learnt how to respond to it. She realised she didn't much feel like talking anymore. She drank the last of her mug of tea and got to her feet. 'I think I might go have a shower.'

'Okay. Thank you for being honest with me, Rose. I appreciate it.'

Rose stared into her empty mug to avoid her mother's eye. 'Alright.'

'I'd like to think you'll keep telling me what goes on in your life.'

Against her better judgement, Rose replied, 'But you don't tell me what goes on in yours most of the time.'

'I can try if you do.'

Rose considered this, before giving a nod. 'Okay.'

'Is there anything else you want me to tell you?'

'Not that I can think of.'

'And is there anything you think I should know from you?'

Rose hesitated. There was Scorpius Malfoy. There was James sneaking out of the castle. There was the knowledge that her mother had far more important things to think about that her and Albus's own theories.

Rose shook her head. 'I don't think so.'

* * *

Snow had been falling on Godric's Hollow all through the night and day. It ought not to have been, he thought; the view outside his window was far too docile for what he was doing.

He tore his eyes from the window and back to the parchment before him. It was the auror office's roster for the week of the nineteenth. He had scribbled it out two weeks previously at eight o'clock on a Friday night when he was half-asleep and trying to get home in time to eat with Ginny. He had picked twenty-five names from his staff at random, as he did every time it came to do the roster, quickly and thoughtlessly.

His eyes travelled over the parchment. The twenty-fives names before him belonged to dead people. He needed to memorise them; he needed to burn them into his brain. He was the one who put them there; he was the reason they had had to die.

 _Matilda Clearwater. Farha Baqri. Jonathon Chang._

On and on it went. They were all gone now, and their bodies needed to be returned to their families.

There was the rap of fingers against wood and he looked across his study to see Ginny in the doorway, her coat slung over her arm. He very rarely shut the door to his office - a habit from when the children were young, so they could interrupt him when they needed - but Ginny always knocked anyway. She had always respected his work, even if she didn't like it.

'Are you busy?' she asked him.

Of course he was busy, but what did anything he could do matter?

'No,' he replied.

'I'm going to meet Neville and Luna for a drink.'

'Okay.'

She stopped herself from frowning; she was trying to be patient with him. 'Do you want to come?'

'I would, but I can't. I need to sort out this roster and see to - see to taking on new recruits.'

He looked away from her. He could feel her eyes upon him, distant and pitying. The names ran through his head again.

 _Indrahit Acharya. Anna Lewis. Christos Fortescue._

'Surely that can wait until after the memorial,' said Ginny. 'Nobody expects you to be working right now.'

'I need it done as soon as I can.'

Ginny sighed and shut her eyes. She had apparently decided he wasn't worth her efforts, for she said, 'I'll tell them you're busy then.'

'Thanks.'

She pulled on the coat she was holding, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. 'Lily's at Zelda's.'

'Yes, I remember.'

Ginny ignored this. 'She says she'll Floo home, but I'm sure she'll want to stay there for dinner.'

'Okay.'

'The boys are asleep.'

'Still? It's nearly two o'clock.'

She ignored this as well. 'Can you make sure they eat something when they get up? I have no idea what time James got home last night.'

'He is home, isn't he?'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Yes, Harry, I did check. But look for yourself if you don't believe me.'

'And Al?'

'He stayed up all night listening to the radio.'

'You let him listen to that?'

'If you didn't want him to hear it then you should have been home to stop him.'

'That's not fair.'

Ginny gave a sharp laugh. 'That's a first, isn't it?'

'Let's not do this. I didn't sleep last night.'

'Neither did I.' She turned back to the door. 'I doubt I'll be gone long.'

'Stay out if you like. You don't need to rush back.'

'Thank you for your permission.'

'Christ, Ginny.'

'I'll see you later.'

'Bye.'

She left the room. He sat staring at the list of twenty-five names, listening to her footsteps as she descended the staircase. He heard her heels echoing around the silent house and the click of the lock on the front door. He got to his feet and crossed to the window, allowing himself a view into their front garden. He watched Ginny stride across the front garden, her wand held aloft to melt the snow impeding her path. She opened the front gate and stepped through into the empty street beyond, before he saw her disapparate. He stayed stationary, watching the place where she had been, before he turned away.

He strode through the cold, silent house. It somehow felt as if it had been a long time since he had been there. He paused at the door of Albus's room and eased the door open, making as little noise as he could. The curtains were drawn, but light was leaking in around the corners, allowing him to make out Albus's dark figure curled up in his bed, snoring gently.

He shut the door and turned away, continuing down the passageway. James's bedroom was at the end by the stairs. He rarely went inside; James had forbidden it since he was twelve. What was also rare was his checking on James after an evening out; there was not much point, because the majority of the time James wouldn't even bother to come home, and knowing this did nothing but cause anxiety.

Today he went against his own rule. He opened the door. Unlike Albus, James hadn't bothered to draw his curtains before going to sleep. His bedroom was full of white, afternoon light, but he was deep in sleep, his limbs sprawled out and tangled beneath his blankets, his leg hanging over the edge of the bed, his dark hair a dishevelled mess, falling over his eyes.

He didn't know where James had ended up last night; only that he must have been home late. As little as he understood Albus, he thought he understood James even less. He feared that James knew this, perhaps even relished in it, but the harder he tried to bridge the gap the more James squirmed away. By the time James was thirteen, Harry had learnt to give him his distance. It was a choice between that or constant arguments.

He was pulled from his reverie by the bell chiming from the front door. James seemed to stir for a second, before he settled back onto his pillows, continuing to snore. Harry gave his son one final appraising look, before he turned away and shut the door.

It would be the Minister's secretarial staff, coming to escort back to the office. Either that or journalists. In their first few months in Godric Hollow after he and Ginny had moved in, they had been followed everywhere they went by reporters, until the Ministry had finally banned them from his street, but today the Ministry would have better things to do than enforce that rule.

He reached the front of the foyer and peered through the stained-glass window pane in the front door. It wasn't any journalists or Ministry personnel standing on his door step, but his godson. Teddy's features were distorted through the frosted ruby-red glass, but Harry knew him from the way he stood with his hands in his pockets and warn yellow rain jacket.

Harry opened the door and took a proper look at Teddy. 'Teddy,' he said.

His godson turned to face him, a grin on his face. His hair was a mousy shade of brown Harry hadn't seen on him in years; his eyes were looped with bags; his olive skin looked sallow in the pale winter light.

'Hey,' said Teddy. 'Hey, good to see you? I'm not interrupting, am I? How are you?'

'I'm fine, Teddy. What brings you here?'

'Oh, I was just – you know, had the day off. I've been feeling guilty about not coming round and see everyone while they're on break.' Teddy beamed at him.

'Well, Ginny and Lily are out, I'm afraid. And the boys are still asleep, if you'll believe it.'

Teddy gave a laugh and ran a hand through his lank, brown hair. 'Ah, course they are. Just my luck. Look, I thought I'd just come round – but I should have written first. Sorry, I – I know you're gonna be busy with all this…'

Teddy dropped his gaze and plunged his hands back into his pockets.

Harry stared down at the young man on the doorstep. There was something in his face that Harry couldn't ever remember seeing in him before. His mind wandered to the paperwork he had abandoned on his desk, but he forced the thought away. 'Do you fancy a cup of tea?'

Teddy looked up at him, hesitant. 'Oh, look, it's… it's okay. I shouldn't have come, I know you're busy…'

Harry stepped out of the doorway so Teddy could step inside, motioning him through. 'I'm not doing anything. It's quiet when the kids aren't around.'

Teddy hesitated again before he grinned. 'Go on, then.'

He stepped inside and Harry shut the door after him. As he pulled off his scarf and raincoat, Teddy gave the foyer of Hecate Hall an appraising look. Harry wondered, as he was sure Teddy was wondering, just how long it had been since he was last there.

'You've got new curtains,' observed Teddy, gesturing to the window.

'Have we? Ginny chooses them. I never notice.'

'Oh, I like them. Gin's got good taste.'

'She does.' He started towards the kitchen, and Teddy followed him.

As Harry set the kettle to boil, Teddy took a seat at the kitchen table. Harry didn't have anything he could think of filling the silence with, and Teddy sensibly busied himself with inspecting the photographs on the wall over the kitchen table.

'That's a cute one of Lily,' said Teddy after a minute.

Harry turned to glance at the photograph in reference. 'That was her birthday last year.'

'And I like that one of James.'

'Yeah. He'd just been made captain.' Harry set two mugs of tea on the table. 'Do you have – I've forgotten…'

'Black with two sugars.'

'Right, that's it.'

Harry retrieved sugar bowl from the cupboard and took a seat across from Teddy. He wished he had something more to offer, like mead or a meal to share, but all he had was the tea.

'I don't think I got around to saying it,' said Harry, 'but congratulations on the engagement.'

Teddy grinned. 'Thanks.'

'Have you made any plans?'

'Nah, you know me. Plans are boring.'

'Of course. Silly of me.' Harry didn't know what else to talk about, and so he asked, 'What about the basic things – do you want a big wedding or a small one?'

The wonderful thing about Teddy, thought Harry, was that he seemed to have no concept of awkwardness. He responded with the same enthusiasm he had for everything. Laughing, he said, 'Well, Vicky's going to want to invite her three hundred friends whose names I don't remember, so that's going to be fun for me. She'll want everyone we went to school with there. She's going to have about twenty bride's maids, I'm sure.'

'And your best man?'

'Gosh, I hadn't even though of that. I suppose I'll ask Luke, if he's up for it.'

'Right.'

Teddy seemed to know Harry was lost. 'Luke's the blonde one who was in my dorm at school,' he said, unbothered. 'He was our Quidditch captain.'

'Oh, yes. I remember him,' Harry lied.

A silence settled upon them. Harry sipped at his tea and turned to the window. It had stopped snowing since Teddy had arrived.

The silence continued for several minutes, until Teddy asked, 'Were you with the Minister last night?'

Harry took another sip of tea. 'Yeah.'

'So you were there when – the radio – that bloke declaring war or whatever it was he said?'

'Yes, I was there.'

'But you can trace that, right? You know, find where they were broadcasting from?'

Harry looked back at Teddy. There was something strange in his eye; eager and pleading and very close to desperation. 'It doesn't really work like that. We weren't prepared. They could have been anywhere across the country.'

Teddy seemed to consider this, as if searching for a rebuttal, before he gave a slow nod. 'Yeah, that makes sense.'

The dark look returned to Teddy's face. Harry shut his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and opened them again. 'Teddy, I didn't think. You knew them, didn't you?'

It took Teddy a moment before he gave a slow nod. 'Some of them, yeah. Anna and Indrahit did their Ministry induction at the same time I did.'

'I should have realised…I'm sorry, I'm not thinking clearly…'

Teddy have a weak laugh. 'Nah, forget it. You've got enough to think about. I just – I suppose I just wanted to know if there were any leads. It's not any of my business, though.'

'Kingsley's going to do anything within his power to find out who did this.'

'Yeah, I thought he would, only… When the paper arrived today all the articles were about Kingsley calling for calm. But I mean, some lunatics just declared war – how calm can he expect people to be?'

Harry silently agreed, but he didn't want to say it aloud. 'It's going to be fine.'

'Yeah, I know. I trust you when you say that, only… only it's just - I knew them, you know? They were friends of mine and now they're just – gone. I've never known how that feels before now. I mean, I know I should understand – what with Mum and Dad. But everything I know about them is stuff other people have old me. But with Anna and Indrahit and the others – they were real people, and now they're not.'

Harry nodded, staring into his mug. 'Yes, it's… hard when these things happen.'

 _When these things happen_. He loathed himself in that moment. What would he have done to somebody when he was Teddy's age for saying something so stupid? If somebody had spoken that way about Fred or Sirius or Cedric Diggory?

But Teddy had never had the anger he had. His godson merely nodded, thumbing the edge of his teacup. Faultlessly civil, faultlessly reasonable. He had always been like this, and Harry admired him for it; he had admired Teddy for as long as he could remember.

Andromeda had done a good job with him. He didn't like to think in those sort of terms; he didn't have the right to assess another parents' ability. And yet when it came to Teddy he couldn't help it, and Andromeda was solely responsible; he certainly had had no role to play.

'I just keep thinking about them,' he said. 'You know, keep imagining what happened when they died, and how it happened, and if it was – _quick_.'

'You can't think about those things. It doesn't do anyone any good.'

'Vicky said that, too. And you're right – you're both right. It's just I can't help it, and I keep wondering…'

Teddy stopped. Harry realised now that his godson was shaking, but he drew in a breath and continued.

'I've just been thinking… You know the – the elder wand?'

Harry very nearly dropped his mug. He tried his best to compose himself, settling the mug quickly bag down on the table. Those weren't words spoken often in his house. He attempted to disguise his fumble by clearing his throat heavily, before looking back at Teddy. The boy's eyes were once again full of eager desperation.

'That was Albus Dumbledore's wand while he was alive,' Harry told him, as evenly as he could. 'It was destroyed in the war.'

This was the same lie he told anyone who ever asked. He had been telling it since the day the war ended; to Kingsley and to journalists and to his own friends. Only he, Ginny, Ron and Hermione knew the truth. Nobody could know – not even someone like Teddy. 'Why do you ask?'

Teddy seemed unable to look him in the eye. 'I don't know, I just… I just have this thought in my head, and I can't rid of it, and this sounds so stupid but I just – I keep thinking about that children's book. And if the elder wand was real then what about the other Hallows? Like… like the invisibility cloak, and the resurrection stone…'

Something panged painfully in Harry's chest. The hopefulness in Teddy's face was unbearable. 'That's just old legends,' Harry forced himself to say.

'But the wand – '

'There have been powerful wands throughout history,' said Harry placidly. 'It depends on the skill of the wand maker. But an indestructible invisibility cloak and a stone raising the dead are beyond the reaches of magic.'

Teddy nodded. 'I know, it's just… it's really stupid. I just… I just don't see why they had to die.'

Harry looked across the table at his godson. He had never quite decided if he looked more like his mother or his father; Harry usually tried not to think about. Like many things in his life, thinking about it was more difficult than it was worth.

'I'll get James and Al up,' said Harry suddenly, and he got to his feet.

Teddy looked up at him, frowning, but Harry couldn't look back; he suddenly couldn't stand to be alone with the boy. He tore his eyes from Teddy; he couldn't look at him anymore. He couldn't look at Tonks's eyes or Remus's nose.

'They'll want to see you before they go back to school.'

'Oh, no, no, let's let them sleep.' Teddy got to his feet, too. 'I should be going anyway.'

Harry waited to hear himself protest, but found that he didn't have the strength for it. He led Teddy out of the kitchen and through the foyer to the front doors. Teddy pulled on his yellow raincoat and looped his purple scarf around him. The bright colours seemed at odds with today's lank, mousy hair.

'Thanks for the cuppa,' said Teddy, bright as ever. 'You make a good brew.'

'Anytime.'

'I'll hold you to that.' Teddy offered his hand. 'See you soon?'

Harry shook the offered hand and pulled the door open. 'I expect so. There'll be a public memorial on Wednesday if you'd like to be there. In Alienor Hall.'

'Right. Course. I'll be there.'

'Well, I'll see you then.'

They let go of each other's hands and Teddy stepped outside. He hesitated on the doorstep, hands in his pockets, gazing out over the dishevelled garden. It had always been in a far better state when Teddy was younger, but if this occurred to him he didn't say so, and instead turned back to Harry to give him a smile. It was a warm, gentle, Teddy smile.

'Tell the boys they need to get up already,' he said.

'Okay, I'll let them know.'

'Good. See you, Harry.'

'See you.'

And with that Teddy crossed the front yard, moving in his fluid, floaty walk he had always had. He opened the gate and stepped through, turning back to Harry to raise his hand in farewell, and then disapparated.

* * *

He found his mother waiting in the drawing room. The curtains had been drawn back, allowing the morning sun to burst through. She was gazing out the window, looking thoroughly content in her amber dress robes, her hair pulled into an elegant knot. Scorpius could see her running her hand gently across her stomach.

'Mum, I'm ready.'

She turned to look at him, giving his teal dress robes an appraising glance. 'Oh, darling, you look so handsome. I don't know what you didn't want to wear them at Christmas.'

 _Because Dad told me I had to_.

'Are you sure you want to go?' he asked.

'Yes, absolutely. We must.'

He sighed and leant heavily against the doorframe. 'But why? You don't work for the ministry.'

'But it's not just for the ministry, darling. It's for everyone. I just want to go pay my respects. It's not fair that they lost their lives.'

'I didn't say it was fair. I just think we're going to be out of place.'

'Well, you don't have to go if you don't want to. I don't mind going alone.'

He rolled his eyes. 'No, I didn't mean that. I'll come with you if you want company.'

'I don't need the company, darling, but it's the right thing to do to go along.'

He heard footsteps approaching from across the foyer, and turned to see his father appear behind him, frowning. He stopped in the doorway to look between his wife and his son, eyeing their dress robes and looking livid.

'You're seriously going through with this?' asked Draco.

'Yes, of course, darling,' said Astoria.

'You know there'll be reporters swarming all over the place.'

'Yes, dear, you told me there would be and I'm sure you're right.'

'Don't let them recognise you,' Draco warned, and he turned to look at Scorpius and said very seriously, 'Do not say one word to them. Understand?'

'Yes,' replied Scorpius.

'Oh, darling, you worry too much,' sighed Astoria. She crossed the room to kiss her husband goodbye, before squeezing past him through the doorway.

Scorpius was left alone with his father. It was the first time they had been alone since their row at the front door on Christmas. His father had spent most of boxing day in the drawing room recounting his alibi for the auror office, and Scorpius had stayed in his room.

'Keep your eye out,' warned Draco. 'You don't know what these journalists are like. They'll do anything to dig up dirt on people.'

 _They wouldn't have to dig very deep with you_.

'Okay,' said Scorpius.

'And stay with you mother,' he ordered. 'Don't get separated.'

From the front door, he heard Astoria call his name, 'Scorpius, we best go no, dear.'

Scorpius looked back at his father. 'I'll be off then.'

'Scorpius,' hissed Draco, 'you need to take this seriously.'

'Yes, Dad. I'll see you this afternoon.'

And he pushed past him out into the foyer to meet his mother.

* * *

He ran a hand through his hair, willing it to stay flat. It was a losing battle, as it always was. Sighing, he pulled on his school robes, fastening them all the way up in the way that was traditional but not fashionable and that nobody ever bothered with at school. He inspected himself in the mirror, raising a hand to attempt to tuck from view the red Gryffindor trimmings.

He didn't own any dress robes: he didn't have any reason to. His mother had decided that Albus would wear his school robes, as they were passable enough, while James would be designated some of his father's robes, his own school robes being in too poor a condition to be deemed acceptable.

There was a knock on the door, giving himself one last sorry look in the mirror, he crossed the room. He opened it to find his father standing before him. He was wearing a pair of drab looking brown dress robes that had fallen out of fashion fifteen years ago; James had only agreed to borrowing the dress robes if he could pick out the pair he deemed to be the nicest.

'Nearly ready?' asked Harry.

Albus shrugged. 'You can tell they're school robes.'

'We can fix that,' said Harry soothingly. He ushered Albus back over to the mirror, standing him up straight before raising his wand and beginning the process of concealing the red trimmings.

'We'll need to get you a real pair of robes before Teddy's wedding,' said Harry as he worked.

'Won't that be ages away?'

'Maybe. You know Teddy. He's very blasé about the whole thing. We can still but you the robes though.'

'But if it's like a year away… I mean, what if I get taller?'

Albus saw his father's reflection smile over his shoulder in the mirror. Albus rolled his eyes.

'You're right, perhaps we should wait,' said Harry. 'Will Mei be there today?'

'Er – I don't think so. Why?'

'Just hoping we could meet her before you go back to school.'

'Well, I think she's busy.'

Harry seemed unbothered by the obvious lie. 'So, things are going well?'

Albus squirmed uncomfortably. 'Yeah, I – yeah, things are good.'

'How long have you been together now?'

'Er… two months, I think.'

'Right. It would be good to meet her.'

Albus dropped his gaze, thumbing the hem of his sleeve. His head was suddenly full of the other night spent in Mei's room, and it was hard to think of a legible reply. 'Yeah, maybe.'

'Okay, I think that's done,' said Harry resolutely, tucking his wand away.

Albus inspected himself in the mirror. The robes looked slightly more acceptable now.

'I'm going to Floo over to Pembroke Road now and bring them back here,' his father informed him. 'We should all arrive together.'

Albus stopped himself from sighing; his parents had strict rules when it came to public appearances. 'Okay.'

'Can you go make sure James is ready?'

'Isn't he downstairs?'

'No, he's in his room.'

Albus wanted to protest, but he wasn't sure how. He watched his father stride from the room and head down the passageway towards his office. He hadn't exchanged any word with his brother since Christmas. He had been trying to avoid having to look at him as best he could. In the last three days they had spent no more than five minutes in the same room.

But he owed it to his father. He could tell how uneasy both his parents were at the prospect of the memorial, and tensions had been running high at Hecate Hall after a vicious row had raged between James and Ginny when she declared he wasn't allowed to wear a Quidditch sweater to a memorial.

Albus left his bedroom and strode down the passageway towards James's room. From across the hall he could hear his mother and sister talking in Lily's room; Ginny was insisting that if Lily didn't choose a dress within five minutes they were going to be late.

He reached James's door and, drawing a breath, raised a hand to knock.

' _I'm wearing them, okay?_ ' James bellowed from within his room.

'Dad says we have to go,' called back Albus, and he quickly turned away; he had no interest in speaking any further, but a second later the door had been wrenched open.

James leered at him from the doorway, wearing his father's navy robes, his messy black hair falling carelessly into his eyes. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted from the room, turning Albus's stomach.

'Nice robes,' said James, eyeing his brother.

'We have to go.' And he turned away again.

'Al, what's the bloody problem?'

Albus rounded on him. ' _What?'_

 _'_ You're not still upset about me talking about your girlfriend's legs, are you? She has nice legs, okay? What do you want me to do about it?'

In that moment, Albus felt suddenly sicked by the sight of his brother: his faultlessly dishevelled hair, his borrowed dress robes that suited him too well, his smile that gave away nothing of his guilt, his arm that he was holding awkwardly at his side. The memory of his bloodied elbow made Albus's stomach turn. He swallowed heavily and said, 'You know what you did.'

James's smile vanished. He straightened up, forcing his arm out straight as if to show his innocence. 'I really don't know what you're talking about.'

But Albus had had enough. He turned away, and finally James did not try to call him back.

* * *

Alienor Hall was the oldest building on Diagon Alley. It belonged to the Ministry and its only use was being large enough to hold foreign delegations. The entrance was guarded by a tall archway, inscribed with runes that he couldn't understand. The long, cobbled pathway wound up a sloping lawn to the doors of the ancient, bluestone hall.

They had arrived early, hoping to avoid any notice, but the lawn was already dotted with other witches and wizards waiting for the service to begin. Some had conjured up chairs or fires as they sat around waiting. There were groups of journalists lining the pathway, cameras held aloft and quick-quotes quills at the ready, waiting for anyone of interest to arrive.

They made it half-way along the pathway before somebody recognised them. A young wizard stepped towards them, his _Daily Prophet_ ID badge clipped to the front of his robes, camera slung around his neck. 'Morning, Mrs Malfoy, do you mind if I take your photo?'

His mother laughed and raised her hand to her face, continuing up the pathway to the hall. 'Oh, no, if you don't mind, dear. I haven't got my face on.'

'Well, I think you look lovely,' said the journalist, falling into step with them and following them up the pathway. 'Where's Mr Malfoy today?'

'Oh, he wanted to come. Unfortunately he's a little under the weather,' said Astoria.

' _Mum_ ,' Scorpius hissed warningly.

'Oh, Scorpius, stop,' laughed Astoria. She looked back to the wizard and said earnestly, 'Hope you keep warm standing around outside, darling.'

The journalist apparently knew he wasn't going to get anything else of worth, and so he bid them goodbye and fell away. Once he was out of earshot, Scorpius turned to his mother. 'He's going to put that in the paper now.'

Astoria waved away his concern. 'You sound like your father. He's just doing his job, darling.'

Scorpius decided upon pressing her further. He didn't want to sound like his father.

The spires of the hall plunged towards the cloudy sky, casting them in shadow as they made their way to the front door. There were at least twelve aurors stationed at the hall's entrance, scrutinising anyone who approached. Before they could get within ten feet of the doorway, an auror had stepped forward to meet them.

'Apologies,' said the auror. 'Ministerial invitees only, I'm afraid. The public's welcome to occupy by the lawn. The Minister's speech will be magnified so everyone can hear.'

'Oh, thank you,' said Astoria, and she took Scorpius's arm. 'Come on, darling.'

Scorpius trudged down the hall after his mother: she seemed utterly unbothered by this news, which only irritated Scorpius further. 'It's freezing out here,' he said. 'I thought Alienor Hall holds three hundred people or something? Why does the Ministry need that many seats?'

'Oh, darling, can you blame them? It's a security issue. They're terrified more of their staff will be targeted. Poor Mr Shacklebolt – I can't imagine how he's feeling.'

Scorpius knew his mother would not have spoken of Kingsley Shacklebolt this way in his father's presence. As far as Scorpius knew his mother and father had never voted in their lives, and yet on several occasions Scorpius had happened upom his mother poring over interviews with Shacklebolt in the _Daily Prophet_ when his father wasn't around to notice.

'Here, this looks nice,' said Astoria, gesturing to vacant patch of lawn below a naked birch tree, just off to the side of the pathway.

In spite of the cold, it seemed like half of wizarding Britain had materialised at the gates of Alienor Hall. Within fifteen minutes the lawn was reduced to standing room only, with witches and wizards meandering around, talking loudly in anticipation.

Scorpius stood with his hands plunged into the pockets of his robes. He turned to look at Astoria; she was humming herself, once again running her fingers absently over her stomach. 'Are you cold?' he asked her.

'No, darling, stop fussing.'

From across the lawn, the call of a journalist cut through the voices of the crowd. 'There they are!'

The chatter died away, to be replaced by excited murmurs and the sound of camera shutters snapping closed.

A young witch sitting beside his mother said softly to her husband, 'Ooh, is it _them_?'

Suddenly the air was full of the sound of journalists and photographers bellowing greetings. Scorpius looked around for the source of the excitement, knowing what it was before he saw them. Trailing up the sloping hill towards Alienor Hall were the Ministry invitees that the journalists had been waiting for.

Everyone knew that Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix travelled in packs at public events, trying to discourage journalists from cornering them: today there was a group of at least thirty. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley entered first, followed by the other Weasley brothers and their children, along with Edward Lupin, Professor Hagrid, the Scamanders, the Longbottoms, Finlay Jordan's family, and a number of greying Order members whose names Scorpius couldn't remember. The children were usually pushed to the centre of the group, in an attempt to shield them from photographers, but Scorpius could see Albus Potter and Rose Weasley clearly through the crowd.

Aurors converged on the group, forming a circle around them to try to guide them to the doors of the hall unimpeded, but the journalists were determined: this was what they had been waiting for. Shouts echoed across the lawn, hoping to coax the war-heroes into looking in the direction of the cameras.

'Mr Potter, do you have any leads?' yelled a witch with a notepad.

'Those are lovely robes, Ms Granger, where'd you get them?' called a young woman from _Witch Weekly._

'Ron, who are you tipping in the Cannons-Harpies game this weekend?' demanded a young photographer.

'Lily, Rose, can you girls give us a smile?' a wizard bellowed, raising his camera.

Dumbledore's Army seemed trained in pretending the journalists didn't exist, but at this they showed some sign of response. Hermione and Harry both looked back at their daughters, alarmed, and Ron Weasley broke away from his wife's side.

Scorpius saw him step very close to the man, and say loud enough for those nearest to hear, 'Don't you fucking talk to them.'

His wife moved quickly to catch his arm. ' _Ron_ , don't…'

Ginevra Potter put her arms around her daughter and Rose, shepherding them to the front of the hall while Hermione Granger dragged her husband forward. Albus Potter scurried along after them, hurrying up the hill.

In the commotion James Potter had managed to break away from the group, stopping very close to Scorpius and his mother to talk to a pretty journalist who had called his name. As Edward Lupin passed with his girlfriend, James caught hold of him and pulled him to a stop, linking arms with him to pose for a photo.

The journalist took the shot and, as she wound the film, Scorpius heard her say, 'That's gorgeous. Could I get one of just you, James?'

'Hear that, Ted? She doesn't like you,' laughed James, and he let go of Lupin, giving him a push away. Lupin hurried away to re-join his girlfriend.

'Alright, go on then,' James said to the journalist. 'Tell me what to do. Do you want me to fix my hair?'

She gave a laugh, blushing. 'Could you maybe push it out of your eyes?'

James leant forward, bowing his head to the her. 'Here, you just put it the way you want it.

Giggling, the witch raised a tentative hand, brushing her fingers through James's fringe. It was then that Harry Potter reached them through the crowd, seizing hold of his son, and muttering something in his ear that Scorpius couldn't make out.

'It's just a photo,' James protested loudly, but Harry had started dragging him away. James turned back to the witch, saying as he did, 'Sorry about my father. He's forgotten his manners.'

There was a chortle of laughter from those near enough to hear. Scorpius rolled his eyes; there was an inexplicable affection amongst the public for Harry Potter's children, no matter how intolerable they were.

With the aid of aurors to hold the journalists at the front doors, the group made it to the doors of the hall and disappeared inside, leaving in their wake a lot of disappointed journalists and excited onlookers.

From beside him, Scorpius heard his mother give a low sigh. 'Those poor kids. Imagine growing up like that.'

Scorpius didn't have anything to give in the way of respone. He somehow felt that he had gotten the raw end of the detail when it came to parental legacies.

His mother's words to the journalists were prickling at him. _He's a little under the weather_ – that was all she had said, and yet how far would the _Prophet_ be able to stretch it? Would they surmise he was at home recovering from injuries obtained during an attack on the Ministry? Or perhaps they would report what Scorpius believed to be the truth – that his father simply didn't care about strangers dying.

* * *

It had been reported in the _Prophet_ yesterday morning that the families had opted for private burials, and so in place of coffins the alter of Alieron Hall was adorned with twenty-five wreaths, woven of holly and Christmas lilies.

It was not the first time she had been in the hall. When she was very young she had been brought along to fundraisers and Ministry dinners here. She had been guided through the crowd, clutching hands with Albus, their parents ushering them along, keeping onlookers are bay, much in the same way they had been today.

She could almost feel the anger radiating off of her mother as she dragged her into the pew that had been designated _Potter_ , _Granger, Weasley_. Her parents were not looking at each other. Her father had broken their strict rule of ignoring the press.

Rose knew that Ron was bristling too, a mix of anger and guilt; she knew just as he did that his photo would be in the _Evening Prophet_ , brandishing his fist at the journalist who had told her to smile.

The thought of it made her skin crawl. Everyone had heard it - her entire family and all of her parents' friends. Neville and Hannah. Finlay and his parents. Her uncles and aunts. They had seen her looking hopelessly around, startled at being addressed, looking right into the camera in her surprise. Her photo would probably be in the prophet, too.

A hush fell over the hall and she watched as Kingsley Shacklebolt got to his feet in the front pew of the hall, flanked by two aurors. He made his way onto the alter; only once he was at the podium did the aurors break his stride, falling back into the shadows to allow the Minister to take centre stage. Rose had never seen him looking so old; for the first time she could remember his handsome face had visible lines.

He withdrew his wand from the pocket of his black dress robes and raised it to his throat. When he spoke, the Minister's words were magically amplified so as to echo over the lawn of Alienor Hall.

'Good morning and thank you all for being here,' he began. 'It brings me great sorrow to know that our wizarding community if gathering here not in celebration, but in mourning. We are here today to stand together to honour twenty-five young witches and wizards who gave their lives defend our Ministry and its people.'

 _Defend our people_. That didn't sound right to Rose. Who were they defending? They hadn't saved anyone; they hadn't died for anything close to purpose. They had been murdered.

'They were brave – they were strong,' continued Kingsley. 'They came to the aid of each other in an attempt to fight those who wish to do others harm. It is for that reason that the Wizengamot has legislated to have space made for their crypts at Chelsworth Grove.'

 _Chelsworth Grove_. The name was too lyrical for something so morbid: the oldest Wizarding cemetery in the country, dating back to the burial sites of the druids before the first century. Only the most illustrious members of Wizarding society were buried there: Ministers and aristocrats and war heroes. She knew that her parents had plots waiting for them in Chelsworth Grove.

'It's at these times when it is hard for us to remember the strength that we have as a nation,' Kingsley proclaimed. 'We have survived turmoil and war. We have risen above the bigotry and hate that threatens to tear us apart. We have fought, and we will continue to fight, because there is a unity between us that cannot be broken.'

And suddenly she felt tears threatening to break, but she refused to let herself succumb to it. She wasn't going to let anybody see that. She wasn't going to let them think she was being tricked by the Minister's pretty word – she was smarter than that.

She wasn't crying for unity. She was crying for her parents, at the thought of their bones in the earth at Chelsworth Grove, and the knowledge that if there was another war they could be buried there much sooner than later.

'We will remember these young aurors – we will honour them,' Kingsley assured the weeping crowd. 'We will farewell them, and to do so I invite onto the podium the loved ones of our twenty-five fallen brothers and sisters to give their eulogies.'

She watched as Kingsley stepped away from the podium and raised his hand in gesture. From around the wide hall, twenty-five people got to their feet. One person for each of the murdered aurors with a few minutes to attest to an entire life. They were of all ages: parents and siblings and husbands and wives of the dead.

The first onto the podium was a young woman. Her black dress robes made her seem older, but Rose thought she looked no older than eighteen. She was shaking as she raised her wand to her throat. 'My brother's name was Indrahit Acharya,' she said in a slow, uneven voice. She swallowed deeply. 'He was twenty-three years old. He… he joined the auror program the week after he left Hogwarts…'

Rose shut her eyes. She willed herself to listen, but all she could think of was Hugo. She wondered if he knew what she did; that another war would be different for their family than it would be for anyone else's. He seemed to have had an inkling of the weight of such a thing when he had come into her room on Christmas. He was smarter than she gave him credit for – smarter than their mum and dad gave him credit for.

' _He's too young for that_ ,' she had overheard her mother telling her father the previous evening, and so it had been decided that he would spend the day with his grandparents at the Burrow. She suspected they would have preferred to have left her there if they thought they could; perhaps if she had known she would be told to smile by a strange man with a camera she would have agreed to it.

 _You're such a child_ , she told herself furiously, as a man in his seventies stepped onto the podium to speak about his daughter. _What does it matter if someone takes your photo?_

She could hear her mother weeping in the row ahead of her. Her father raised an arm to pull her into his chest, and she didn't resist. She wondered how many times this scene had played; a memorial and her mother crying and father holding her. She thought it would be more times than they would be able to remember. She hoped it was more than she would ever have to witness.

* * *

How lovely it would be to have his photo taken. How thrilling it would be to see the look on his father's face if he were to open the _Daily Prophet_ to see his son skulking under the awnings at the back of Alienor Hall, his dress robes hanging loose and a cigarette in hand. At least it would give them something different to talk about over breakfast.

He raised the cigarette to his lips. The tobacco was stale; he hadn't been able to smoke at his usual rate while at home with parents. He ought to toss it away and buy a new tin, but he wasn't one to admit defeat

He heard footsteps against the cobbled stone. For a moment, he feared it would be his mother, coming to investigate where he had gone. He wasn't in the mood to argue.

But then, around the corner, came Finlay, slouching in his emerald dress robes, hands plunged into his pockets.

'Found you,' said Finlay when he reached him.

'Having fun?'

'I'm going to kill myself if I have to listen to that any longer,' said Finlay. He sounded humorous, but James could tell her was on edge. 'Mind rolling me one of those?'

James raised his eyebrows, eyeing Finlay suspiciously. The green dress robes suited him very well. 'Since when did you abandon your morals, Fin?'

'Come on. I was about to have an anxiety attack sitting in that fucking hall. There's still twelve eulogies to go.'

'Who knew funerals were depressing?'

'I know. Shocked me, alright.'

James took the cigarette out of his mouth and passed it to Finlay. He shrugged away the thanks he was given and reached back into his pocket for his tin.

'This is stale as shit,' said Finlay.

'You're welcome, mate.'

Finlay watched him as he rolled it, struggling to keep his hand steady.

'You want me to do that?'

'And have me smoke one of your shitty roll-ups? No thanks.'

Finlay sighed and raised a hand to catch James's wrist.

James met his eye. 'What?'

'Let me look at it.'

James considered this, before saying coolly, 'I thought you didn't want to do that anymore.'

Finlay was undeterred. 'It's pathetic to watch you try to roll like that. Let me look.'

James seemed to ignore this, licking the edge of his paper and rolling up the smoke. He tucked away the tin of tobacco and ignited the tip of his cigarette, popping it into his mouth. He inhaled deeply before shaking back the sleeve of his dress robes.

Gingerly, he extended his aching arm. Finlay stepped forward, taking his wrist in his hand, easing it up to inspect the damage. The patch of skin where the bone had torn through was swollen and shiny and an angry shade of red.

'That's infected,' said Finlay.

James replied by taking his cigarette from his mouth and exhaling deeply.

'Did you clean it when you closed it up?'

'I was more concerned about getting my bone back in my skin, actually.'

'Well, you sealed it up alright,' said Finlay, running his fingers up the length of James's forearm. 'And the bone's been set okay. But you're gonna need a cleansing draught though or the skin won't heal.'

'Alright, then.'

Finlay let go of his arm and returned to his cigarette. 'Your letter didn't really tell me what happened.'

'Nothing happened. It's just one of those things.'

' _James_. Your bone was out of your arm.'

'Yeah, but I put it back where it belongs. It's sleeping tight now. All better.'

'Ginny and Harry didn't ask you where you were?'

'They think I was at your place.'

Finlay sighed. 'How long do you think you can get away with this?'

'As long as I want.'

'But Albus saw. What if he tells Ginny and Harry?'

'He won't.'

'You don't know that.'

'Al's got other things to think about. He's trying to get de-flowered.'

Finlay rolled his eyes. He took a final drag on his cigarette and vanished the butt with a wave of his wand. 'Mundungus didn't show up today.'

'Nah, he never does. He hates these things. Half the Order can't stand him. From what I've been told he wasn't a very brave soldier. Who the fuck can blame him for that, though?'

Finlay raised a hand to his hair. He had tied his dreadlocks back from his face for the occasion, but now he pulled them loose. 'Come on, let's get out of here. We'll go the apothecary and get you a cleansing draught.'

'Then what? Drinks?'

'Drinks,' agreed Finlay.

James took the end of his cigarette from his mouth. He pressed it against the old bluestone, streaking the deep grey with an angry smudge of black. He dropped the butt onto the ground and, with Finlay, turned away towards the arched gateway.

* * *

 _Matilda Clearwater. Farha Baqri. Jonathon Chang._ _Indrahit Acharya. Anna Lewis. Christos Fortescue._

The names went on and on. And now it was in front of him. Real, tangible, annihilating. These weren't names on a page; these were dead people. Dead people whose families were up on the alter crying – crying because he couldn't protect his own staff.

James has slipped away; he had pretended he hadn't noticed, and he was pretending it didn't bother him. He wasn't allowed to think of anything else; he needed to be present; to make himself hurt. He deserved to hurt; this was his fault.

Ginny was sitting beside him, rigid and unmoving. He could hear Hermione crying in the row behind him. From across the pew, he saw Teddy wiping his eyes, Victoire clinging to his arm as she wept.

It was all too familiar – it was happening all too soon.

Finally the twenty-fifth eulogy came to an end and Christos Fortescue's hysterical fiancé was led away from the podium by his mother. Kingsley returned to the podium and gave his thanks.

'And now, before we leave each other, I've been told that Deputy Head of the DMLE Mikhael Rowle would like to speak.'

Murmurs broke out from around the hall. Before he could stop himself, he spun in his seat to look back at Hermione. She was staring back at him, her tear-stained face looking startled. They had both been given schedules for the service; Rowle taking the stage was not part of it.

'What's he doing?' Ron muttered. 'What gives him the right to get up there?'

Harry turned back to the front. Mikhael Rowle made his way along the aisle towards the alter, raising a hand in welcome to the hall. He was wearing long, elegant grey robes, his blonde hair pulled into a long, neat ponytail. He took his place behind the podium and raised his wand to his throat.

'Hello, hello, to all of you. I am sorry that it is under such severe circumstances that I am speaking to you, and my thoughts are with the families of the twenty-five aurors who needlessly lost their lives.'

Rowle gave a very planned pause, drawing in a deep, feigned sigh. 'It pains me to know that these young witches and wizards didn't need to die in the way they did. But they have – and they have because our Minister failed to protect them. They died because our Ministry refuses to acknowledge the threat of Muggle-born extremists.'

The response could be heard around the hall. Mutterings of surprise, soft gasps. More than one person jeered at Rowle. A young witch somewhere in the back got to her feet and bellowed, ' _Death eater!'_

This gave way to another round of gasps and murmurs. Aurors converged on the witch, trying to get her back into her seat, but she shook them off and turned back towards the doors. She wrenched the doors open, and as she did so Harry heard it: the sound of cheers from out in the lawn. There were people outside of Alienor Hall bellowing their support for Rowle.

The witch disappeared through the doors and the aurors pulled them shut. Rowle straightened his robes, unfazed by the protests from around the hall; Harry knew that he had heard the cheers of support.

'The age in which our Ministry bows to the demands of Muggle-borns and casts aside the rights of Purebloods is ending,' Rowle continued. 'We must open our eyes to the threat that stands before our way of life, and in recognising that threat we must fight it.'

The doors didn't need to be open for the cheers to be heard this time. Even within the hall Harry could see people nodding in agreement.

'And that is why,' said Rowle bracingly, 'I'm announcing my intention to challenge Mr Shacklebolt for the role of Minister at next year's elections.'

There were no jeers this time. It seemed those who objected were too horrified to speak. Instead the only noise was the distant rumble of cheers and applause from outside the hall's doors.

* * *

The weather didn't suit the kind of day they were having. Soft, warm light fell over them as they stepped out of the hall. The aurors had advised they stay inside until the majority of the crowd had left. Her parents had only agreed to leave after being assured that any journalists left had been escorted outside of the grounds.

As their parents convened at the doors to speak with the old Order, she and Albus were allowed their first moment of solitude for the day. They hung back from the crowd, dawdling by the door, and Albus caught her arm. She turned to look at them, and knew immediately something was wrong.

'I have to tell you something,' he said.

'What is it?'

'Not here,' he said. 'Somewhere quiet.'

'Oh, Al, if this is about Mei…'

'No,' he told her flatly. 'It's really bad.'

At the look of severity in his pale face, she gave a nod. Glancing around to make sure their parents were occupied, they strode down the sloping hill, hands plunged into the pockets of their coats against the cold.

There were a few tearful mourners still straggling around the lawn, but it was easy enough to give them a wide berth. They found a place on the edge of the garden, and stopped under a shrubby evergreen where they could be hidden somewhat from their parents.

'Alright,' sighed Rose bracingly, 'what is it?'

'James did it.'

'Did what?'

' _It_ ,' said Albus. He gave a hopeless gesture towards the hall at the top of the hill. 'He… he…'

His breath caught in his throat and he shut his eyes. For a brief second Rose thought he might be sick, before he steadied himself with several deep breaths.

'He didn't go to Finlay's after dinner on Christmas,' said Albus. 'He went somewhere else, and when he came home he – his arm was –'

'Al…' said Rose slowly, 'that doesn't mean…'

'His bone was out of his arm, Rose, how else could that have happened?'

'You don't know it was him.'

'I _do_. I do, Rose. He's done something really, _really_ bad. I've known it for ages but I just – I just couldn't admit it to myself. And now – now they're dead.'

'James doesn't know that kind of magic,' insisted Rose.

'How would we know what he knows?'

Rose could see there was no sense in arguing, as much as she wanted to. She drew a breath and paused for thought. 'Okay… so say he did it. What are you going to do?'

Albus shook his head. 'I don't – I mean – I don't know. He can't – he can't get away with it, but what would happen to him if I told my parents? Would they tell the Ministry? And if they told the Ministry…'

'He'd go to Azkaban,' said Rose.'

'Exactly,' murmured Albus. 'So, I… I don't think we should tell anyone.'

'Al…'

'He can't have meant to – he musn't have meant to do that. He's not like that – he's not… not a _killer_ …'

'Albus, shut up,' said Rose quickly, catching his shoulder. 'Look.'

She forced him around. There, on the edge of the sloping hill, making his way towards them, was Scorpius Malfoy. They watched him approach, hands in his pockets, head bowed. They were silent as he drew nearer, incapacitated by their surprise at seeing him making a beeline for them.

It wasn't until he was standing over them that he finally looked up. 'Hey,' he said.

'Hello,' replied Albus.

'What are you doing here?' asked Rose sharply.

Scorpius frowned. 'It's a memorial, Weasley, or didn't anyone tell you?'

'I mean _here_. Talking to us. What do you want?'

He looked back across the lawn towards the hall, as if he didn't want to look them in the eye. He looked uneasy, tapping his foot impatiently, his hands stuck in the pockets of his silk dress robes. Seconds passed before he spoke. 'I was just thinking…'

'That's grown up of you,' said Rose coolly.

It seemed for a second that he was going to rise to meet Rose's hostility, but he seemed to think the better of it. Forcing his voice to remain even, he said, 'I was thinking about November. When we left the castle.'

'What about it?'

'About the Slytherins,' said Scorpius.

'Yes. Could you hurry up, please?'

'Well shut up and let me tell you, Weasley,' snapped Scorpius. 'When they were sneaking back to the castle – and we could hear them talking.'

'They said that – somebody called… August, right?' said Albus uncertainly.

'Yes, and he didn't need to see them again until-'

' _Until Christmas_ ,' breathed Rose.

There was silence as the realisation dawned upon them. They each looked back and forth between the other to, stunned into silence, before Rose felt Albus grab at her hand. She looked towards him to find him looking elated – she had never quite seen him look that way, and she wondered if she looked just as relieved as he did.

 _It wasn't James_.

Albus shook his head in disbelief. 'But – if they – if the Slytherins…'

'Then they might know who attacked the Ministry,' said Scorpius. 'They might have even helped.'

'I doubt that,' said Rose, and when Albus and Malfoy both looked at her she added, 'Nobody would want fifth-years helping with something like that.'

'What, so you think it's just a coincidence?' Scorpius snapped.

'I didn't say that, Malfoy. I'm saying that just because they might know something doesn't mean we can prove they were involved.'

'So, what? We just get away with it?' he demanded.

'I didn't _say that_ ,' said Rose through gritted teeth. 'I'm saying that the aurors and the teachers aren't going to care what they said about Christmas. They'll have their own leads to follow.'

'So what do we do?' demanded Scorpius. 'Just do nothing and have them get away with it?'

'You're going to need something more convincing to tell the teachers,' said Rose. 'Otherwise you're just going to get us detentions for sneaking out.'

Scorpius glared at her, apparently lost for a counter-argument.

'Rosie,' said Albus in a small voice. 'What about the cloak?'

Rose's eyes narrowed. 'The cloak?'

'Dad's cloak.'

'What cloak?' asked Scorpius.

Rose ignored him. 'What good is that going to do? He's hardly going to hand it over to you so you can go sneaking around spying on the Slytherins.'

'But I doesn't even have it anymore. James has been using it for years. He used to go through Dad's desk when he was out.'

'And I'm sure James would just be thrilled giving it to you,' drawled Rose.

'I suppose I could ask to borrow it,' said Albus.

'What are you two on about?' demanded Scorpius.

Rose again ignored him. 'Maybe. It would have to be for a good reason though. I suppose you could tell him you need it to get into Ravenclaw tower. He'd adore that – thinking that you owe it to him that you lost-'

' _Rose_ ,' said Albus sharply, 'I am not telling him _that_. I'll tell him I need it for – I don't know _– something_.'

'Need _what_?' growled Scorpius. 'I'm the one who figured this out. You can't keep this to yourself. If you want my help-'

'We don't want your help,' said Rose decidedly, and she got her feet. She seized hold of Albus's arm and pulled him up to. 'We have no way of knowing it was them, and even if we did we'd have no way to prove it. So congratulations on figuring it our – you're very clever.'

'Wait, Rosie,' said Albus tentatively, glancing towards Scorpius. 'Perhaps he could help… I mean, his family knows their families…'

'Exactly,' said Scorpius triumphantly.

'Oh, so when you go to your little I-Hate-Mudbloods club you can pick up on their gossip and pass it back to us? No thank you.'

'Where the hell do you get that from?' snapped Scorpius. 'When have I ever said about Muggleborns?'

'You don't need to say it. I can tell by the way you behave what you think of them,' said Rose coolly.

Scorpius shook his head in furious disbelief. 'God, Weasley, you are such a-'

'Such a _what_ , Malfoy?'

'Such a self-important little brat.'

'And you're a spoilt little rich boy,' said Rose. 'We do not need your help.'

'Rose…' beseeched Albus.

'Albus, no-'

'Somebody's coming, Rosie.'

At Albus's warning, they spun around to look up the sloping hill. A woman was hurrying towards them, wearing a set of richly embroidered amber dress robes. She was looking anxious and was panting by the time she reached them. Scorpius's expression changed immediately.

'Mum…'

'Oh, darling, I've been looking for you,' she sighed. 'You should have told me you were with friends.'

Scorpius seemed very tempted to correct her, but managed to stop himself.

The woman was astoundingly pretty, with a warm, soft face and plump, rosy cheeks. Her dark ringlets were pulled back from her face, with a few curls against her olive skin. Rose saw that Scorpius had absolutely nothing of his mother's looks; his face was all his father's.

Regaining her breath, Scorpius's mother gave both Albus and Rose warm smiles. 'I'm sorry to interrupt, you two. I didn't know where he'd gotten to. I'm Astoria – and you are?'

Albus looked uncertainly at Rose, before turning back to Astoria. 'Er – this is Rose, and I'm Albus.'

'Rose and…' Something clicked within Astoria's head as she recognised them both. 'Oh, you are… oh, it's lovely to meet you both. I had no idea you three were friends.'

'Mum,' said Scorpius quickly, 'I'm freezing. Can we go?'

'What? Oh, yes, of course, darling.'

'I'll just say goodbye.'

'Oh, oh, yes…' Realising she was being asked to leave, Astoria bid both Albus and Rose goodbye and started back towards the arched gateway.

Once Astoria was out of earshot, Scorpius turned back to Rose and Albus. 'Look,' he said, straining to remain civil, 'I know you don't like me, and I don't like you either, but it's not about that. The Slytherins hate you both, but they – they sort of tolerate me. They asked me to help them once at the beginning of term and I – I probably should have taken more notice.'

'Yes, you should have,' said Rose. 'It's a little late to make amends now. Come on, Al.'

She started forward, but Albus stood his ground. Rose looked back at him venomously. ' _Albus_.'

'You go on,' said Albus. 'I'll catch up with you.'

Rose's brow pinched together. It was glorious watching her when she was angry, thought Scorpius; it was glorious seeing somebody get the better of her. Without another word, she turned away and stalked back up the sloping hill, and he found himself alone with Albus Potter.

'Look,' said Albus, 'I'm going to try to get my dad's old invisibility cloak. James has it, and he'll probably never give it to me but – but I'll try. And then after than I think that… I think we probably need as much help as we can get.'

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. 'Will your cousin approve?'

'Well, perhaps… perhaps I won't tell her.'

"Yeah, that could work.'

'Okay,' said Albus, nodding as if to reassure himself. 'Okay, so – so should we like… shake on it?'

Scorpius considered this for a moment, before taking Albus's offered hand in his own and giving it a rough shake.

* * *

 **Song Credit:** **_Past Lives_ by BØRNS.**

 **A/N: Once again sorry about the long wait between updates! Here's another stupidly long chapter.**

 **Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate! If you're still enjoying this please let me know in a review! x**


	13. No Big Deal

_14/09/2018_

* * *

 ** _No Big Deal  
_** _Wrote a letter to my grown-up self  
Saying thanks for knowing when to give up  
Held my breath for a one of a kind  
But what I got wasn't worth my time  
Creature of habit, torn leather jacket  
Chase the white rabbits  
I think something's wrong_

* * *

She hadn't come downstairs with the intention of listening. She had wanted a cup of tea, and yet, as she reached the bottom floor, she heard their voices.

They were in the living and the door had been closed. The very fact that she couldn't make out any of their conversation told her they were trying their best not to be overheard. This of course meant it was something important.

She crept across the passageway and knew before the door, putting her ear to the keyhole.

'I can't believe you,' came her mother's anguished voice from within the living room.

'Kingsley asked me to,' said her father.

'Well, he shouldn't have.'

'It would only be for a little while. Until all this is cleared up.'

'Who knows how long that will be?'

'Well, don't you think for that reason I should give it a go?'

'You have two children.'

'Nothing's going to happen. It's not combat, just investigation. Observation at the absolute most.'

' _Ron_.'

'Hermione…'

She heard it too late. Her mother's footsteps coming towards the door. She straightened up just as her mother opened the door.

Hermione seemed surprised by the sight of her, but she quickly composed her face into a frown. 'What are you doing?' she asked.

'I can't find my potions book,' Rose invented.

Hermione was unconvinced. Folding her arms, she said, 'Well, it's not in here.'

'Okay.' Rose turned quickly away.

'Rose,' said her mother, and she looked back reluctantly to meet her eye. 'I'd appreciate it if you didn't eavesdrop.'

'I wasn't.'

' _Rose_.'

'I just need my potions book,' she insisted. 'I need to pack.'

Hermione sighed and shook her head. 'Well, go on, then.'

She turned away. She had lost any interest in a cup of tea, and so she stated back up the stairs to her bedroom.

* * *

The Potter household had never been one for deadlines. He had been woken by his mother pounding on his bedroom door at quarter to eleven, demanding he get out of bed and begin to pack, before she stomped down the corridor to badger his sister.

A letter had arrived the day after the memorial, advising parents that new rules had been set in place regarding students' return to the castle. Each household would be given a fifteen-minute opening in which their children would be able to be Floo into a designated fireplace within the castle.

Packing didn't take long. He poured an armful of jumpers and trousers into his trunk, tossed whatever books he could find inside, and shut the lid. He didn't have any use for exams, and so what use did he have for studying?

With Ginny still preoccupied with forcing Lily to get organised, he crept downstairs. He presumed he had a ten-minute window in which he could have a cup of coffee and a cigarette before his mother would come looking for him.

Stepping into the kitchen, he found that he wasn't alone. Albus was at the table, picking at bowl of porridge. He looked up at his brother when he heard his footsteps.

'Hi,' said Albus, over the sound of Ginny and Lily bickering with each other from upstairs.

'Morning.'

James crossed to the stovetop and set the coffee pot to boil.

'Dad left us a letter,' said Albus. James looked back at him over his shoulder, finding Albus gesturing to a slip of parchment lying next to his bowl of porridge. 'He had to go to work early.'

'Lucky him,' said James.

'You want to read it?'

James didn't reply. Listening to the faint sound of yelling from upstairs, he drew out his tin of tobacco. With his back to Albus, he began rolling himself a cigarette. He had only a few more pinches of his stale tobacco to get through, and then he'd invest in a new tin.

Over the last few days Albus had developed the need to fill silence within the house. It was an irritating habit, James thought, but in the three days between Christmas and the memorial in which Albus did nothing but glare at him, he had been surprised to find that he much preferred it when they were on speaking terms. Albus's newest bid for conversation was, 'What are Mum and Lily yelling about?'

'Oh, the usual,' James replied. 'The listlessness of life. The inevitability of death. Very profound, aren't they?'

'Are you rolling a cigarette?'

'Yeah, you want one?'

'No, of course not!'

'Thought I'd offer, Ducky.' He tucked the fresh cigarette behind his ear and got a mug from the cupboard, pouring himself a cup of coffee. 'If Ginny comes looking for me tell her I'm up in the attic finding a coat.'

Albus rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He got to his feet and crossed to the sink to wash his bowl. With his brother's back to the room, James snatched up the parchment from the desk and headed towards the door and into the backyard.

It had been three days since the last snowfall. The last sheet of snow had frozen and melted and frozen again to form a sad, grey overcoat across the paddock and the naked branches of the birch trees.

James trudged along the pathway from the backdoor and sat himself down on the step of the owlery, igniting his cigarette. He took a deep drag before unfolding his father's letter.

 _Dear Lily, Al, and James,_

 _I'm sorry I won't be there to see you off, but I'll write to each of you properly this evening. I hope the term treats you all well and that exams are manageable for you both, James and Al._

 _I'm sorry about the miserable Christmas we've all had, but it's nevertheless wonderful to have you all home. I hope that I'll be around more when you're home for the summer. England's tipped for the cup and Germany's hosting. It would be great if we could all go together._

 _Please all look out for yourselves and each other._

 _Love to all of you,_

 _Dad_

James folded the letter away. He felt somehow embarrassed to have read it. His father put things in such simple terms. _Miserable Christmas_ – it was as if he was commenting on the weather.

He thought, as he dragged on his cigarette and looked out over their morbid backyard, that perhaps simple terms were the only way his father managed to align things in his mind.

And suddenly James's head was full of Finlay. His hands in the pockets of his green dress robes as he rounded the corner of Alienor Hall. The light in his dark eyes as he smoked the cigarette James had rolled for him.

James tried to unite the vision of his best friend with the Auror Office robe's and the scars across his father's face. It was a difficult thing to think about but he realised, quite painfully, that it wasn't impossible to picture.

They had envisioned, since they were very young, their lives after Hogwarts: drinking and travelling and laughing. But now their trajectories seemed to be diverging. Finlay wanted to be an auror, and James didn't want to be anything.

 _We were friends in school_ , he imagined himself saying one day. _We used to be friends_.

He wondered, in a year's time, or five years' time, or ten years' time, what would have become of he and Finlay. He could imagine Finlay scarred and world-weary, but he couldn't imagine himself anywhere. He could think of things to keep himself occupied for the next few years: Dubrovnik and Berlin and Istanbul. He could stretch that out for perhaps a decade, he reasoned, but after that he saw nothing. He realised he didn't much care what was to come after that.

'Put that out.'

He looked up to see his mother standing on the steps of the backdoor. Her cheeks were flushed from her confrontation with Lily and she had her cloak on, meaning their departure would be imminent.

'But it makes me look cool,' he said to her.

She pretended not to have heard him. She stepped down onto the sodden lawn and crossed to the owlery to stand over him, her arms folded.

'You know you're supposed to be back at school in ten minutes?'

'Yes, Ginny, I remember. I'm packed. I'm ready to go when Lily stops fucking around.'

'How long have you been smoking?'

'Time's an illusion.'

'Did you read the letter Dad left?'

In reply, James raised the cigarette to his lips in one hand and, with the other, passed the letter to Ginny.

She took it from him. Frowning, as if concentrating deeply, she folded it back into a square and slid it into the pocket of her cloak. 'He's sorry he couldn't be here to see you off.'

'Doesn't bother me.'

'Well, it bothers him.'

'He's sweet, isn't he?'

Ginny paused, watching as he smoked, before she said, 'Did you read what he said?'

'Yeah.'

'About looking after yourself?'

'Yes, Ginny.'

'Well, there's something I want to talk to you about.'

'Ooh, this sounds fun.

'I'd really like it if you listened, and I'd like it even more if you'd take my suggestion into consideration, okay?'

'I'll give it a go.'

'I don't want you leaving the castle this term, okay?' she informed him, and before he could protest she continued 'Hogsmeade visits excluded obviously, but please - whatever you and Finlay do when you sneak out, just promise me you'll do it in the school grounds. The castles big enough for you to get away with whatever it is you want to get away with.'

James considered the offer, before asking, 'Are you nurturing my vices, Mum?'

'I don't want you leaving the castle,' she said again, very calmly. 'It's not safe anymore. You've got one term left - one term. And then you'll never have to be anywhere you don't want to be ever again, okay?'

'So I can skip Christmas dinner next year?'

'If you make it through this term you can do whatever you like.'

'I'll hold you to that.'

'Thank you. Now hurry up, please.'

Ginny turned away and strode briskly back to the house. James toyed with his cigarette butt, wishing he had more left to postpone returning to the kitchen, but he would have to accept that fact that it was finished. He tossed the butt away onto the icy pathway. It hissed as it was extinguished against the melted snow, and he got to his feet and returned to the house.

Albus was still at the kitchen table. He had apparently been waiting for him; he looked around expectantly as James shut the door.

'I told her you were in the attic,' said Albus immediately.

'Course you did.'

'I did! She saw you through the window.'

'You're useless, Al.'

' _I'm useless_? Why can't you smoke somewhere subtler?'

'And to think I was about to go transfigure your bed.'

Albus's eyes swelled. 'You weren't?'

'I was.'

' _Please_ , James.'

'Don't worry, Al, you won't need a double bed,' he said resolutely. 'I'm sure Mei will have dropped you before we come home in the summer.'

Albus glared at him. 'Why do you think that?'

'Oh, you'll ruin it somehow,' said James lightly. With a wave of his wand he cleaned away the dregs in his coffee cup and returned it to the kitchen cabinet. 'Hurry up, Ducky. Professor Sinistra's expecting us.'

* * *

Climbing out of the fireplace of the transfiguration room, she was met by the face of a man she had never seen before. He wasn't altogether unpleasant looking, but the contemptuous look he gave her made her cautious. As she stepped out of the grate to allow Hugo to Floo through, the stranger moved towards her, a quill and sheet of parchment in hand.

'Names,' he said to her.

She set down her trunk, eyeing the man's quill. 'Rose Weasley.'

Hugo set his trunk down and joined Rose's side. 'Hugo Granger.'

'Year levels?

'Pardon?' said Rose.

He sighed impatiently. 'What year are you in?'

'I'm first and she's fifth,' said Hugo.

The man looked tiredly at Rose. 'I need you to answer for yourselves.'

'Fifth,' confirmed Rose.

'Which house are you each in?'

'We're both in Gryffindor,' replied Hugo.

The man looked back to Rose. 'Is that right?'

'Yes, that's right.'

'And your mother's maiden name?'

'Granger,' said Rose.

'Granger,' chorused Hugo, standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to look at what the man was scribbling onto the parchment. 'What are you writing down?'

'I'm seeing if your answers match what we have on our list.'

'Why?' asked Hugo.

'At the request of your head mistress. I'm sure she'll explain it further.'

Hugo looked excited. 'Are you an auror, then?'

'I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Other students will be arriving.'

'Are there going to be aurors in all the classrooms now?' pressed Hugo.

Rolling her eyes, Rose seized hold of her brother and snatched her trunk back up. 'Come on.'

'Does that mean the school's going to get attacked?' Hugo asked her as they left the classroom. He sounded far too captivated by the idea.

'No, it means the school is just as paranoid as the Ministry is,' she told him.

Their ascent to Gryffindor tower led them past a number of other aurors, stationed at the bottom of stairwells and at the door to classrooms. From within the rooms they passed they could see other students climbing out of fireplaces to be met by an auror armed with a quill, dotingly ticking off their names and answers.

'What's the new password?' Hugo asked her as they approached the Fat Lady.

'Merry weather,' said Rose.

'Sadly not,' sighed the Fat Lady, and she swung forward to allow them inside.

Hugo clambered in first, dragging his trunk after him, which he dropped immediately at the sight of his friends. Rolling her eyes, Rose kicked it away from the mouth of the portrait hole to allow herself to climb through, before she found herself engulfed by a face-full of long, black hair.

' _Oh, Rosie,_ ' sighed Chandra.

Held in Chandra's iron grip, she let go off her trunk and did her best to pat Chandra on the back. 'How was France?'

'Oh, it was awful. _Awful_. Lavender and Lydia are just _horrible_. And then of course when – when _it happened_ they shut down the international portkeys so we couldn't get home, and Dad was really upset we couldn't go to the memorial, and then Mum was saying it was better we didn't go because it's obviously not safe, and then they got into this big fight and… oh, Rosie, I missed you.'

'I missed you too,' said Rose, managing to extricate herself enough to cross over to a free settee, Chandra clinging to her arm. 'Did you get interrogated by the aurors when you arrived?'

'Oh, yes,' said Chandra as they sat down. 'They're very nice, aren't they?'

'Mine was a grumpy twat.'

'Oh, dear. I suppose you can't blame them, can you? They must be so upset after…' Chandra suddenly looked on the verge of tears, and she asked in a small voice, 'What was the service like?'

'Depressing,' said Rose. 'I'm not going to any more of them.'

'Oh, surely there won't be any more, will there?'

Rose chose to ignore this, and instead said, 'Scorpius Malfoy was there.'

Chandra's eyes widened. 'Really? But the _Prophet_ said he dad had been taken into questioning. I didn't think they'd want to go.'

'It was just him and his mum,' said Rose. 'Remember how I told you we saw the Slytherins sneaking back into the castle when we went looking for James in November?'

Chandra nodded.

'Well, I'd forgotten, but Malfoy came and said it to Al and I. The Slytherins had been talking about someone named August, and they said that they wouldn't be seeing him again until Christmas.'

'Christmas? But… you don't think…'

'Malfoy does,' said Rose, 'and he's convinced Albus of it too.'

'But what can he tell the aurors?' said Chandra. 'What if they don't believe you?'

'That's the thing, they won't believe us,' said Rose. 'But I know Albus has already convinced himself that he can catch them. He can be so stupid sometimes.'

Chandra looked uncertain. 'Oh, I always thought he was quite smart.'

'He's smart, but he's stupid.'

Chandra seemed to choose to accept this, before she smiled again. 'I saw in _Witch Weekly_ that Teddy and Victoire are getting married!'

'That was in _Witch Weekly_?'

'Yes, she was wearing her ring at the memorial. That's so exciting!'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Yes, it's definitely news worthy.'

'There were a lot of pictures, very nice ones of James,' said Chandra wistfully. 'And I think I saw you in the background of a few.'

'Don't tell my parents that. My dad was about a second away from hitting some guy who spoke to Lily and I.'

'Oh, dear. I suppose your mum and dad are worried, aren't they?'

'They're always worried. What about yours?'

Chandra sighed. 'Mum is, definitely. She's been looking at her tealeaves all week. She says they're not making any sense.'

'That's no good.'

'No, and Mars is coming to retrograde. Not to mention there's a new moon tomorrow night.'

'I didn't know new moons were a bad thing.'

'Well, they're not supposed to be, but it means there's something beginning, and what with Mars and all…' Chandra sighed. 'Well, you can see why my mum's worried.'

Rose was saved from replying by the portrait hole being pushed open. Julian Jiang and Linus Stebbins gave calls of greeting as they saw James clambering through. He gave the common room a long, appraising look, tossing his trunk aside, before crossing the room to join to dorm-mates.

Lily followed in after him, her friends in tow. They were talking briskly, recounting their Christmas breaks to each other, and didn't stop to bid anyone hello before they hurried off to their dormitory.

Finally, Albus came through, dragging his trunk after him. Rose raised her hand to catch his attention and, looking relived, he came over to meet them. Chandra pulled into a hug before he collapsed down onto the armchair across from them.

'Did you two see all those weird people downstairs at the fireplaces?' was the first thing he said to them.

They told him they had and with a shake of his head he said, 'What do you think they want?'

'Albus, they're aurors,' said Rose impatiently. 'It's for security.'

Albus looked alarmed. 'But there were dozens of them! Do you think the school's in danger?'

'I'm sure they'll leave once everyone's back. Professor Sinistra is probably just being careful,' Rose reasoned.

'Albus, you look different,' said Chandra brightly, peering at him. 'Have you cut your hair?'

Albus raised a hand to give a dismal attempt at flattening his hair. 'No. Does it look bad?'

'No, you look nice,' said Chandra. 'Perhaps you've gotten taller.'

Albus seemed at a loss for how to respond, for he changed the subject. 'Did you have a good time in France?'

Chandra sighed. 'Not really. I don't much like being stuck with my sisters. I wish Lavender would hurry up and move out.'

Albus gave a sympathetic nod. 'Yeah. I reckon once James moves out things will be – er – _quieter_.'

Chandra sighed again, before asking seriously, 'How's Mei, Al?'

He nodded. 'Oh, good, I think. She's not Flooing in until the afternoon.'

'How was your visit to Aberdeen?' asked Chandra, and she lowered her voice, 'Did you share a room?'

'No, we didn't.'

Chandra looked disappointed. 'Oh. So you didn't… you know…'

'Well – er – not that night.'

Rose gave him a shrewd look. ' _That_ night?'

'No.'

'So, was there another night?'

Albus gave a bashful shrug. 'I went over there on Christmas.'

Chandra's mouth fell open. 'So – so that's it? You did it?'

'Well… yeah.'

Chandra gave a squeal of delight and threw her arms around him. 'Oh, Al, that's so exciting!'

Albus, again, seemed unsure how to reply. He gave Chandra a one-armed hug. 'Er… thanks.'

'How was it?' asked Rose.

'Er… good, I hope.'

'Oh, I'm sure it was good, Al,' Chandra assured him. She slid to the edge of the settee, leaning as close as she could to him and said, 'So, do you love her?'

'Well, I – don't know.'

'You haven't told her you love her?'

'No… should I have?'

By the look on Chandra's face, it was clear that she believed he should. 'Well, if you don't want to…'

'It's not that I don't want to… it's just… do you think she expects me to? I mean, did Connor say he loved you before the first time you – before you started…'

'Having sex, Albus,' Rose finished. 'It's not taboo, you know?'

Chandra spared Albus from replying. 'Well, Connor's not like that, He's very… _stoic_. He doesn't need to tell me how he feels – I can tell. He's a Taurus, you see,' she said, as if both Albus and Rose should derive some crucial meaning from it. She gave a slow sigh. 'I'm so excited to see him. I brought him back some sage and chamomile.'

'Lucky boy,' said Rose.

Chandra gave a sudden gasp and clapped her hands together. 'Oh, that reminds me! I have presents for you both!'

Rose grimaced. 'Chandra, I told you not to buy me anything.'

'Oh, they're only small.' She jumped to her feet and dashed away up the stairs to their dormitory. When she returned, she was nursing in her hand two delicate slips of folded purple wrapping paper. She handed one to Albus and one to Rose.

Rose knew what it was before she opened it. Chandra gave the same present over and over again, under the guise of different supposed meanings. There was a draw in Rose's desk full of gemstones Chandra had gifted to her in solution to whatever turbulence was present.

Albus was looking far more uncertain. Rose knew that he had never been a recipient of one of Chandra's presents. He unwrapped the paper as delicately as he could, laying it against the leg of his trousers, easing back the wrappings to reveal a white, translucent crystal pendant. Rose tore back the wrappings of her own gift to reveal the same necklace.

She looked up into Chandra's wide, eager eyes. 'Oh, that's pretty,' she remarked.

'Oh… yeah… wow…' improvised Albus. 'Gosh, Chandra, I didn't get you a Christmas present.'

'Oh, it's not for Christmas,' said Chandra, suddenly very seriousness. 'I can't believe I didn't think to buy them for you both earlier – you need them. They're selenite, for protection.'

'Of course,' said Rose, tucking the necklace into her pocket. 'Thank you.'

'Yeah… I… wow…' Albus seemed unsure of how he was supposed to respond, and at the expectant look Chandra gave him he proceeded to slip the necklace around his neck, tucking the crystal beneath his sweater. Chandra beamed at him.

* * *

'Scorpius Malfoy.'

The name gave the auror an all too familiar stir. She looked up from her clipboard to eye him, her gaze darting over his blonde hair and his narrow, pointed face. He knew they looked alike: he didn't need to me reminded by the look of recognition on the woman's face.

'Malfoy,' she said, checking her clipboard with a tap of her quill. 'And your house and year level.'

'Ravenclaw. Fifth year.

'Mother's maiden name?'

Scorpius was sure she already knew it, but he answered anyway. 'Greengrass.'

The auror nodded approvingly. 'Alright, off you go. Straight up to your common room, if you don't mind.'

He hoisted off his trunk and strode out of the room. The beginning of term usually found the halls of Hogwarts buzzing with activity, but this evening they were deserted except for the aurors and the few students who had been scheduled for late arrivals. Scorpius was sure this was another adjustment for the heightened security.

He reached the door to Ravenclaw tower and the eagle-head doorknocker raised its beak to face him. 'Say my name and I am no more. What am I?'

'Silence,' said Scorpius. The door swung open and he dragged his trunk inside.

There was very little room to move. Ravenclaw's common room was generally only ever this loud or crowded after Quidditch wins, but with the corridors and school grounds off limits the students had no other choice than celebrate their reunions with friends in the midst of a hundred other people.

The older students were sharing around bottles of mead and fire whiskey, while about twenty separate games of exploding snap were being conducted by the younger students. It seemed that everyone was competing with everyone else to be the loudest and most exhilarated, which at least offered Scorpius the opportunity to get to his dormitory unnoticed.

He was disappointed to find it occupied. Connor Davies, Mori Akiyama, and Kienan Cornfoot all looked up as he entered. It seemed to take them a few seconds to remember to say hello, and Scorpius wondered if they had been talking about him before he arrived.

'Want a drink, mate?' asked Mori as he set down his trunk.

As much as he didn't want to speak to them, the goblets of mead they had in their hands seemed far too appealing. 'Sure.'

Mori filled him a goblet and passed it across the room. He thanked him and drank deeply. It was hard to describe the kind of relief that mead gave him, but it was a definite consolation.

'How was your break?' asked Connor. By the look on his face, Scorpius knew he was hoping for some sort of gossip.

'Fine,' said Scorpius, sipping his mead. 'Yours?'

'Yeah, pretty good. My parents were away so I had the house to myself. You go to the memorial?'

'Yeah.'

'Did your dad go?'

He took another gulp of mead before asking. 'No. Did yours?'

'Well, no,' said Connor. 'But my dad wasn't questioned about it, either.'

'Suppose that's true,' said Scorpius.

'Did you listen to the Harpies-Cannon game on the weekend, Scorpius?' asked Mori, as a means of intervening.

'No, I didn't.' He took a final gulp of his mead and set down his goblet. 'Thanks for the drink.'

'Have another,' said Connor, offering the bottle.

If Scorpius hadn't been so irritated, he may have been amused. He wondered how much mead Connor would be prepared to waste on him if he thought he could get him drunk enough to talk openly about his father.

'No thanks,' said Scorpius, getting to his feet. 'I should go see Zaina.'

'Oh, you're still together, are you?'

Scorpius decided it was best not to acknowledge this. He felt he didn't have a proper answer to give, anyway. He turned away and marched to the door.

He crossed the landing to the girl's dormitory, navigating his way around the entirety of Ravencaw's fourth years who were playing a giggly game of truth or dare.

He made it to the fifth-year girls' dorm. He could hear laughter from within. It was lyrical and superior, strange and unknown. It was very Zaina: it was everything he liked about her.

He raised a hand and knocked on the door. The laughter stopped and who heard someone say, ' _Whose expecting someone_?' and the laughter began again. A moment later the door opened to reveal Louisa Edgecombe.

Her laughter died away at the sight of him. She shut the door slightly to stop him from seeing into the room. 'Oh, hello, Scorpius,' she said, much louder than needed. He knew it was to allow Zaina time to hide in their bathroom. 'How was your break?'

'Fine, Louisa, how was yours?'

'Very nice, thanks.'

'That's good. Can you tell Zaina I'm here?'

Louisa glanced over her shoulder. 'Oh, she's not here yet. She must have been given a late Floo time.'

Scorpius sighed and steadied his voice carefully. 'Well, can you tell her I'm looking for her when she gets here?'

She looked both guilty and immensely relieved. 'Oh, yes, Scorpius. Absolutely.'

'Thanks, Louisa.'

'See you tomorrow.' And she shut the door.

* * *

She had known it to be true, and yet it still managed to surprise her. It stung quite a great deal more than she expected it to. Albus had elected to eat breakfast at the Ravenclaw table, leaving she and Chandra to eat together. The _Prophet_ arrived halfway through breakfast and she gave the front page a scan. With no new information on the Ministry investigation, she tossed it aside and poured herself more pumpkin juice.

'Are you going to read it, Rosie?' asked Chandra.

Rose told her she wasn't, and so Chandra pulled it towards her to flip to the horoscopes.

'I'd love to cut my hair, but I feel I best wait until the retrograde is – _oh, what?'_

Rose looked up at her. Chandra had stopped in the midst of slipping through the paper, dropping it down open on the third page. Rose read the headline upside down.

 _Ron Weasley re-joins Auror Office to aid Christmas Day Massacre investigation_

Rose read the words slowly, steadying herself. She told herself it might read differently if she looked at it the right way up. She reached across the table for paper and dragged it back towards her. The words remained the same.

She had no reason to read the article. She had known all she needed to know when she had heard her parents over talking two days ago. The only difference now was that she had something to justify her anger: why hadn't he told her first?

But pretending to read gave her an excuse not to look into Chandra's wide, pitying eyes.

 _Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt confirmed today that Ron Weasley, 41, has stepped back into his position as senior investigator with the Auror Office after a fourteen-year hiatus._

 _Rumours have been swirling about Weasley's return to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE) since he was spotted on Sunday evening in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic in the midst of its reconstruction._

 _Along with the Order of Merlin he received for his role in the Second Wizarding War, Weasley holds the highest record for case closures of any senior investigator in the Auror Office in the last sixty years._

She set the paper down: the article continued, but she didn't need to read anymore. Sliding the _Prophet_ back across the table, she said to Chandra, 'There you go. You can check the horoscopes now.'

'You didn't tell me he was joining them again,' said Chandra.

'He didn't tell me.'

Chandra gaped at her. 'He – he didn't mention it?'

'No, not at all. So, what should I expect this week?'

Chandra looked like she wanted to say more, but slowly turned the pages to the back of the paper. 'Let's see,' she began in a small voice. 'Libra - you need to make sure not to misplace anything, Rosie.'

* * *

'He didn't even mention it?'

' _No_ , Albus. I've said this already.'

'But why wouldn't he tell you?'

'Because they still think we're infants,' said Rose dismissively.

Albus was looking pale. He leant back against the wall of the corridor, frowning in thought. She wished she could stop talking about it, but when the whole school had read about it in the morning news she seemed unable to.

But before Albus could get the chance to say more. Professor Blotts appeared at the end of the dungeon. She bid them good morning and flicked her wand at the door to the potions room. It swung open to permit them entrance.

'Welcome back, everyone,' said Professor Blotts as she made her way to the front of the room. 'It's good to see you all, even if you're dreading being back, but it really is time we start getting you prepared for your OWLs.'

There was a collective murmur of distaste from around the classroom, but Professor Blotts ignored them. She aimed her wand at the blackboard and a piece of chalk rose of its own accord to scribe her words.

'Today we'll be working on the Atwood Potion. It's a very effective calming draught, but it can be quite fiddly. It's very likely this will come up somewhere in your exams, but seeming this is your first try I think it would do you all good to work in pairs. You need to add each item very precisely and at just the right moment, so one person will need to do the wand work while the other person adds the ingredients.'

There was a collective shuffling of feet and outbreak of chatter as students put themselves into pairs. Potions class was the only place in which Albus ever experienced anything close to popularity. It wasn't unusual for people who generally seemed unaware of his existence to ask him to partner up.

Scorpius Malfoy was, perhaps, the only person who had never tried to badger him into forming a pair, but today the Ravenclaw made a clear beeline across the room to join him.

'Hi,' said Albus, 'how are you?'

'Have you paired up yet?' asked Scorpius.

Albus glanced towards Rose, but she was fixated upon Scorpius: she seemed to be taking it as a personal affront that the Ravenclaw had dared speak in her presence. Remembering his handshake with Scorpius at the memorial, he turned back to him and said, 'No. Do you want to pair?'

'Come on,' said Scorpius briskly, and he started across the room to the supply cabinet. Albus followed him, ignoring Rose's disapproving glare.

Albus glanced over at the chalkboard where the ingredients had been sprawled. He looked back to find Scorpius already snatching down jars from the shelves, before the Ravenclaw stepped away from the cabinet and crossed back to the room. Feeling very conscious of himself, he moved across the room to join Scorpius at the table at the back.

'So…' said Albus slowly, 'would you prefer to do the ingredients or the incantations?'

'I don't care, let's just get it boiling,' said Scorpius, taking out his wand to light a flame at the base of his cauldron, and he added in an undertone, 'Zaina's looking at us and I don't want her to overhear.'

Albus shifted in his seat. 'Oh, is she…'

' _Don't look!'_ Scorpius hissed at him, catching his arm and forcing him back to face the cauldron.

'Sorry,' muttered Albus. 'I'm happy to do the ingredients if you like. I think they're kind of tricky.'

'Fine, whatever,' grumbled Scorpius. He was watching Zaina out of the corner of his, waiting for her to look away.

Relieved, Albus uncapped the jar of newts' livers. They looked slightly shrivelled – had he had his choice, he would have selected a fresher jar, but he hadn't liked his chances of challenging Scorpius. 'Alright, so first we need to add the calendula leaves…'

'Okay.

'You'll need to get the potion stirring anti-clockwise - if… if that's okay.'

Scorpius took out his wand and gave it a half-hearted swirl.

'Right,' said Albus slowly, 'maybe if… you try it a bit slower…'

'Forget about the potion,' Scorpius ordered.

'I… but…'

Scorpius glanced around to ensure nobody was listening. Satisfied that their neighbours were occupied with their potions and that Zaina had lost interest, Scorpius leant close to Albus to ask, 'So, have you spoken to your brother?'

'Er…'

'About the cloak?'

'Oh, er, not yet,' said Albus, waving his wand over the cauldron to get the potion stirring properly. 'I haven't found the right time, but now that we're back at school it shouldn't take too long. We should turn the heat down a bit.'

Scorpius ignored this, and so Albus went ahead and began mincing the frog spawn.

'We can't just wait around,' Scorpius insisted. 'You want more people to get killed?'

'No, of course not! But my brother is…'

'A git?'

'Well, yes, but he – he kind of likes knowing he has things I want. So if I go to him and ask for the cloak he'll just drag it out as long as possible. I need to find the right moment – make it like a random request.'

'And how do you intend to do that?'

Albus spooned the jar of frog spawn into the potion. 'I don't know, but… but I'll do it somehow. Do you mind chopping up the mouse tails? I need to start adding the patchouli essence.'

Scorpius gave a reluctant sigh, but conceded to laying the mouse tails out on his chopping board as Albus uncapped the bottle of patchouli.

'Why do you care, anyway?' asked Scorpius as he tossed the mouse tails into the cauldron.

'Er… well, I mean doesn't everyone care? I don't want anyone else to get hurt.'

'Not about the war,' said Scorpius impatiently. 'About potions. It's the most tedious subject I can think of.'

This was not the first time Albus had been told this, but it disappointed him none the less. He was yet to find anyone who appreciated potion-making: even Mei seemed to view it with disdain. 'I don't know… OWLs are coming up and… and I suppose potions is the only thing I know I'll pass.'

'So, you like it just because you're good at it?'

Albus shrugged. 'Maybe. Why did you continue with it if you don't like it?'

'My dad made me.'

'He… made you?'

'Yeah. Is it supposed to be bubbling like that?'

'Er… no. I – I think you might have – have cut the mouse tails a bit too thick.' Scorpius gave him a disparaging look, and Albus added quickly, 'But it's okay. If we add more calendula and reduce the heat it'll stop it.'

Scorpius rose to fetch more calendula leaves from the cupboard, leaving Albus to adjust the flames beneath the cauldron. As Scorpius crossed back across the room, Albus saw Zaina lean towards him. He stopped briefly by her table and they exchanged a few muttered words that Albus couldn't hear. Scorpius returned to the table looking morose, throwing the bundles of leaves down in a huff.

'Thanks,' said Albus.

Scorpius ignored this as he slumped down in his seat.

'Er – are you alright?'

'Brilliant. Are you going to add them or what?'

Albus did as he was told. The potion settled and several moments passed before Albus built up the courage to ask, 'Is Zaina – I mean – she's not mad about us trying to find out more about the Slytherins, is she?'

'No, I haven't told her.'

'Oh,' said Albus.

He apparently let his dismay show on his face, for Scorpius demanded, 'Have you told your girlfriend?'

'Er… no,' he admitted. 'But I _was_ planning to… only I… I don't want her to worry. I suppose I just thought – Zaina doesn't seem like she'd be the type to worry.'

'She wouldn't.'

'Oh, so…'

'So why haven't I told her?'

'Well… yeah.'

'We're not really speaking at the moment.'

'Oh… is everything alright?'

'Obviously not.'

'Right…' Albus hesitated. He couldn't decide if to ask would be intrusive, or if not to ask would be uninterested. 'So… er… what – I mean…'

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. 'Weasley didn't tell you?'

'Rose? Tell me what?'

Scorpius heaved a sigh. 'After we left the castle in November, I went back to my dormitory and she was waiting for me and – and I had leaves in my hair. She thinks I was out in the grounds with another girl, and she thinks I was lying about being in detention all night – which I suppose I was, but that doesn't give her the right to jump to conclusions.'

'Right… that's no good,' said Albus uncertainly.

'No, it isn't.'

A long silence ensued as the potion bubbled away. When there was ten minutes left of the class, Professor Blotts began making her way to the back of the room, peering into cauldrons as she passed and offerings corrections. She reached Albus's and Scorpius's table las and gave a broad smile. 'Oh, Albus, that's looking marvellous.'

'Thank you, Professor.'

From the next table, Albus heard Emory Vane give a loud scoff. Professor Blotts appeared not to hear him.

'Scorpius, I think you picked a good week to pair up with Albus,' she continued. 'Alright, everyone, you can pack up now. Make sure you take a look at Albus and Scorpius's potion as you leave – when it's got that silver sheen on the surface you know it's ready to drink.'

There were a lot of resentful grumbles from around the room. Students shuffled past them, giving their potion no regard, spare for Chandra who stopped to congratulate them. When she noticed Rose stalking away, however, she hurried out after her.

Scorpius and Albus cleaned up their station and slung their satchels over their shoulders. As they strode out of the room into the dungeon's corridor, Albus heard the voice of Emory Vane behind them.

'Better be careful, Potter,' he drawled. 'Zhao won't be very happy if she knew you were making eyes at Professor Blotts.'

Albus ignored him as best he could as they climbed the stairs to the entrance hall. It was somehow made worse by Scorpius's presence: the Gyffindors were used to Vane, but it seemed to take Malfoy by surprise. He looked over his shoulder, giving Vane a disdainful look, before he turned back and continued up the stairs.

'Got a problem, Malfoy?' Vane demanded.

Malfoy didn't look around this time, but said coolly, 'Nothing severe, fortunately.'

Vane seemed unsure if Malfoy was insulting him or not, and he snarled, 'Don't think you'll be so sure of yourself when Daddy's in prison.'

Albus made to face Vane but Scorpius caught his arm, keeping him walking forward. 'We're going to be late for herbology,' he said.

They came to the top of the stairs and followed the rest of their class out through the oak doors into the bitter cold, wrapping their cloaks around them and starting down the path towards the greenhouses.

'Good thing you've got your boyfriend looking out for you, Potter,' continued Vane. 'Does that mean you're finally getting shagged? He's not quite as pretty as Zhao, but I suppose he'll do.'

Albus was struggling to focus on where he was putting his feet. If Rose was with him she would have told him to ignore him, but Rose far ahead at the front of the group, walking briskly with Chandra.

'Hey, Potter,' said Van gleefully, 'if you've got Malfoy for yourself, does that mean Zhao's free for the night?'

Scorpius wasn't quick enough to catch him this time. Albus spun in spot, coming face to face with Vane, forcing him to stop. 'Shut up, Emory, okay?'

The students nearest to them stopped too, looking around with interest. A few paces forward Zaina and her friends were eyeing the exchange disapprovingly.

Vane looked briefly taken aback, before he begun to laugh. 'Should I take that as a yes?'

Albus and Scorpius both moved at the same time: Albus to grab his wand, Scorpius to step between the pair of them. Scorpius took hold of Albus's shoulders, forcing him back, ensuring that Vane was out of his reach. Vane moved forward too, eager to meet Albus's anger, but Hamish Coote and Atticus MacDonald had doubled back, each seizing a hold of the bigger boy's arms.

'Fucking hell, Emory,' snapped Hamish. 'What is your _problem?_ '

'Potter's finally stepped up,' said Vane harshly. 'Come on, Hamish, he wants a fight. Don't you, Potter?'

'I want you to fuck off,' snapped Albus.

Vane's eyes flickered with anger. He took a step towards the smaller boy, but Hamish seized hold of him, rooting him to the spot. ' _Stop_ _it_. For fuck's sake, do you want another detention?'

Vane considered this, eyeing Albus venomously, before his eyes flickered towards the greenhouses. They were close enough that Neville was sure to overhear any fights. Reluctantly, he allowed Hamish to direct him away, trudging up the pathway towards the greenhouses.

Only now did Albus have any sense of embarrassment. He stayed in his spot, staring at the ground, waiting as the onlookers slowly started walking again, talking amongst themselves.

He raised his head to look at Scorpius. He knew he ought to thank him, but his humiliation seemed to have rendered him mute. He swallowed heavily and attempted to begin. 'I – that…'

'School will be so great once he fails his OWLs,' was all Scorpius said, and he started again towards the greenhouses.

And suddenly it occurred to him. Albus moved forward,, weaving past Scorpius, who gave a half-hearted call of warning, thinking that he was again going after Vane, but he didn't get that far. Instead he reached the group of Ravenclaw girls a few paces ahead and said uncertainly, 'Hey, Zaina?'

Zaina looked around. She and her friends came to a halt, inspecting Albus suspiciously, waiting for him to speak. Albus had very little experience speaking to her. She was pretty in a way that seemed debilitating, and for a minute all he could do was look at her, before he remembered himself.

'I wanted a rematch,' he said breathlessly. 'That Saturday Scorpius and I got detentions. MacDougal left and I – I told Scorpius I was a better seeker than he is, but he said he could beat me easily, and so we – we went down to the pitch for a rematch. We got out the snitch but – but I lost.'

Zaina was silent, glaring down at him, her arms folded and her plump lips pursed. Albus was determined to meet her eye. She gave him a long, scrutinising look before her eyes passed over Albus's shoulder to where Scorpius was standing. 'Is that true?'

Albus met Scorpius's eye for a brief instant, before Scorpius looked back to Zaina. 'Yeah.'

Zaina considered this, her friends looking on, before she said to her boyfriend, 'You honestly care that much about who catches a snitch?'

Scorpius nodded. 'Yeah, I suppose I do.'

'That's really pathetic.'

'That's why I didn't tell you,' said Scorpius. 'But I did win.'

There was another instant in which Zaina eyed him, before Albus saw her begin to laugh. Rolling her eyes, she turned back around and started towards the greenhouses. Albus looked back at Scorpius, who was frowning after his girlfriend in disbelief, before he seemed to realise that he had been forgiven.

He hurried past Albus, looking back as he did so and muttering very quietly, 'Thank you.'

Albus saw him reach Zaina and fall into stride beside her, taking her hand as he did so.

* * *

She had hoped, rather indulgently, that the new auror presence might have rendered the prefect patrols redundant. She stayed late in the common room that evening, ignoring the Transfiguration essay she had waiting in favour of a book she had received from her grandmother for Christmas.

When there were only five minutes left until she was intended to be on duty, she was feeling as if she might have gotten away with it, until Lucy came in through the portrait hole and spotted her.

'What are you doing here?' Lucy demanded.

Rose looked up at her. 'I live here.'

'You're on patrol tonight! It's five minutes to ten!'

'I thought the aurors were patrolling.'

'They've left now that everyone's arrived back from the break. The Auror Office can't afford to use its staff to do our jobs, Rose.'

Rose set down her book, sighing. 'I'm sure Malfoy can patrol on his own.'

'Rose, _go_ ,' ordered Lucy. 'I can have your Hogsmeade privileges revoked, you know?'

Rose thought this was a sinking quite low, but she couldn't think of any more excuses. Rolling her eyes, she left Lucy and returned her book to her dormitory, dawdling as long as she could as she pulled on her cloak. When she came back down to the common room, Lucy was at the portrait hole, waiting for her with her arms folded.

'I think I can manage by myself, Lucy,' said Rose.

'I'll be checking with Scorpius to make sure you turned up,' Lucy warned her.

'Glad you have faith in me.' And she passed Lucy, climbing through the portrait hole.

The corridors through the castle were deserted. It seemed that perhaps, with the aurors' recent departure and the attack on the ministry still fresh in everyone's mind, even the usual stragglers may have been discouraged from dawdling after curfew.

The ministry seemed determined not to acknowledge the suggestion of war that had been raised at Christmas, and yet it was all the _Prophet_ was reporting on. Speculation and hounding of Wizengamot members were sprawled across the headlines as journalists hoped both to be told there was nothing to worry about but also to sell papers.

She wondered at what point the ministry would no longer be able to pretend there was nothing to acknowledge. Would it take another murder? Another attack? Outright warfare in the streets? She knew that was how it had happened last time: there was no war on paper, only in actuality.

But, she knew, that if the ministry had been able to convince her father to re-join the investigative team that there had to be some urgency.

As she rounded the corner to the first-floor landing, she could see the tall, thin figure of Scorpius Malfoy. He was leaning up against the window sill, silhouetted against the coloured glass. There was very little light coming in but she could see him turn to look at her as he heard her footsteps, his preect's badge glistening on the front of his robes. He seemed unsurprised to see her: Lucy must have already informed about the change in patrol schedule.

'What kept you?' he said when she reached him.

'What do you mean?' she replied.

'Well, you're late.'

'By about three minutes.'

'We have a route to follow. If we're late to start then we're late to finish.'

'You're fun, aren't you?'

He gave her a withering look. 'No offence, but you're not the best company in the world. Excuse me if I have other things I'd rather be doing.'

'Well, perhaps we should stop dawdling and get on with it.'

'Great.'

'Excellent.'

'After you.' He gestured down the passageway, motioning her to proceed. She started forward, rolling her eyes.

They walked in silence along their scheduled route. It wasn't until they had reached the second floor that either of them spoke.

'So, has Albus spoken to his brother about the cloak?'

She considered ignoring this, but from the corner of her eye she could see him watching her expectantly. She thought it best to put the matter to rest as soon as possible. 'I don't know and I don't care enough to talk about it.'

She saw him frown. 'Isn't that why you got your cousin to switch us?'

Rose turned to look at him. 'Excuse me?'

'Lucy told me I had to start patrolling with you.'

'Yes, evidently. That's why we're both here.'

'Oh, look, don't try to be smart. Why'd you ask her to switch us if you didn't want to talk about the cloak?'

'You think I asked us to switch?'

'Well, why else am I wasting my evening with you?'

'God, Malfoy, don't flatter yourself. I had nothing to do with this. I have no interest in spending my free time stalking the Slytherins with you and Albus.'

'So why did she switch us?'

'It's not a matter of me wanting to patrol with you, but more a matter of Mei Zhao not wanting to patrol with me.'

Scorpius had no response to this. They continued up through the ascending corridors, trudging along the route that had been assigned to them. They had made it to the fourth floor in silence before, much to Rose's disappointment, Scorpius spoke again.

'Why doesn't Mei want to patrol with you?'

Rose gave a low sigh and looked towards him. She didn't want to talk to him, and she had been hoping the feeling would be mutual. He had a snide look on his face, and she suspected he was only asking her in an attempt to irk her.

'Why do you care?' she asked.

'Jesus. Do you want to walk around in silence for three hours?'

She hesitated. She was far too prideful to admit the real reason Mei didn't want to patrol with her: because she had been inquiring about Scorpius's movements. Instead she said to him, 'We don't get along.'

'But she's going out with Albus.'

'Unfortunately.'

'Unfortunately for him or for her?'

'Unfortunately for me.'

He laughed at this. She thought it might have been the first time she had ever heard him laugh; high and forced and pompous. 'You can't be happy that they're happy?' he asked her.

'Perhaps if I thought they made a good couple I'd be fine with it. I don't think they even know each other.'

'And what you think is most important, of course.'

'Is this making you think less of me?'

'I didn't think much of you to begin with.'

'Exactly. That's why I don't understand why you care.'

'I'm just making conversation.'

'Well, make it better.'

'Alright. Is it true your father's been brought on to investigate the attack on the Ministry?'

'Is it true you father's the one who did it?'

This was enough to shut him up. The smug look on his face disappeared. He looked at her darkly, and she knew he wanted to bite back, but he managed to settle upon saying to her, 'I wouldn't know.'

'And I wouldn't know about my father,' she said.

That seemed to put the matter to rest. He made no further attempt to speak to her as they started up the long spiral staircase that led to the astronomy tower. It was the tallest tower in the castle, separated from any dormitories or teachers' quarters by several floors, and therefore a popular place for dawdlers where they knew they would not be overheard.

She knew, indignant as she was, that she ought not to have mentioned his father, but then he shouldn't have mentioned hers either.

She didn't want to think about it, but nor did she want anyone to know that she had been thinking about it at all. The thought of the _Prophet_ article made something within her sting; the conversation she had overheard between her parents the night before they came back to school played on repeat in her head. It would have been so simple for him to simply have told her the truth.

And yet she found it easier to be angry with her mother. It was her mother who had promised to be honest with her. But hadn't she promised to do the same?

When they reached the top of the astronomy tower, Scorpius pushed the door open and stepped out onto the balcony. He let the door swing shut behind him and she had to throw out an arm to stop it hitting her in the face.

'Thanks,' she said to him.

He looked back at her, eyebrows raised. 'Do you really want me to hold the door open for you? That's a bit archaic.'

'It's common decency.'

He rolled his eyes and turned away from her to survey the tower. It was the first prefect patrol on which Rose had ever seen it deserted. She supposed the biting cold did nothing to make it an appealing rendezvous, but it was a clear night, and she couldn't help but admire the sliver of silver moon reflected against the black, shimmering lake.

And all at once she was hit with an image of pond in the centre of the overgrown backyard of Pembroke Road. Her father had taught her to skim stones across it. It seemed very far away, thinking of that time before she had come to Hogwarts. Her mother had worked so much and her days had been occupied entirely by her father. It was strange to think that those memories were her own; it was like viewing a scene from somebody else's life, and suddenly she wished more than anything to be back in London.

'New moon,' said Scorpius.

Rose had almost forgotten he was there. She glanced at him to find him staring across over the lake: she wondered vaguely if he was trying to be civil. It was a pointless observation for anything other than civility, after all.

'Yeah,' she said, 'and Mars is in retrograde.'

Scorpius looked at her and she wondered why she had said it. She supposed it had been her own attempt at being civil. Knowing this embarrassed her, but she decided to try to look assured.

'I never took you for a divination enthusiast,' he said.

'I'm not,' she said, and when he continued to frown at her she elaborated. 'Chandra talks about it endlessly.'

Scorpius gave another of his harsh laughs. 'Of course she does.'

Rose didn't like the way he said this. Choosing not to encourage him, she turned back towards the door to the staircase. She stepped through the door, not bothering to hold it open for him, but she heard him catch it and start down the staircase after her.

From behind her he said, 'I don't know why you're friends with that girl.'

'I don't know why you're friends with Connor Davies and Kienan Cornfoot. They're idiots.'

'I know they are. We're not friends. We just share a dormitory. Chandra Thomas, on the other hand... she's the only person I ever see you talking to other than Albus. I would have thought you'd despise her.'

'Why would I despise her?'

'Because you're an intellectual snob and she's an idiot.'

At this she looked over her shoulder. He was several steps higher than she, looking very pleased with himself, and she knew it was because he knew she was annoyed.

'You think she's an idiot just because she likes divination?' she said.

'Well, that certainly doesn't help, but she'd be an idiot regardless.'

'How many times have you ever even spoken to her?'

'I don't need to. I've had classes with her for five years. She's painfully dim. All I ever hear her talking about is shoes and who she's sleeping with.'

'A girl sleeping with people doesn't make her _stupid_ ,' Rose snapped. 'And she has far more interesting things to say than you do.'

'I'll have you know I'm very interesting.'

'Stupid haircuts can't compensate for a personality,' she said, and she turned away and continued down the spiral staircase. She managed to make it to the last step before he spoke again.

'Look, Thomas is nice enough,' he said to her. 'All I meant is that you guys seem like odd friends.'

'I don't want to talk about this,' she told him.

'What? Does it bother you?'

'Everything about you bothers me.'

'Really? Don't you have anything better to worry about?'

'Not when you're constantly pestering me,' she said. 'We have to patrol together. That doesn't mean we have to talk to each other.'

'That's not very mature. I'm just making conversation. I was trying to be polite.'

She gave a sharp laugh. 'Oh, really? You're doing wonderfully at it.'

'At least I'm trying,' he said. 'I'm not happy about this either, alright? I don't find you nearly as impressive as you find yourself.'

'You are such a hypocrite.'

'That's a big word, Weasley.'

'Oh, _shut up_ ,' she snarled. 'I'm not wasting my time with you. You can keep patrolling if you like. I've had enough.'

'Weasley…'

She turned away from him.

'Weasley, wait.'

'Turn me into Lucy. I couldn't give a damn – _get off me_!'

He had taken hold of her arm and she rounded on him, her hand plunging for her wand, but when she looked at his face she saw he wasn't looking at her, but instead had his eyes fixed on the dark corridor ahead. She turned back to try to see what it was he was looking at, but she didn't have time before he pulled her back behind the nearest tapestry. He let go of her arm, slumping against the wall, and then she heard the approaching voices.

'August said it would happen, but I never really believed it,' said Edmund Goyle excitedly.

'I told you it would,' said Laertus Zabini. 'You should have believed him. August doesn't say these things if he doesn't intend to follow through.'

'So do you think he'll let us help next time?' asked Clement Rosier.

'Probably,' replied Caliber Montague. 'We'll find out next weekend though.'

Through the tapestry Rose heard them begin up the spiral staircase and their voices became muffled by the echoing footsteps. She made to step out from the tapestry but Scorpius once again seized hold of her, shaking his head in warning. She threw him off, rolling her eyes, and stepped out.

She started down the corridor, away from the spiral staircase, towards the passageway that led to the Great Hall. Scorpius started after her; she could tell from his walk that he was trying not to let his footsteps echo. It wasn't until they had turned the corner into the next corridor that either of the spoke.

'You realise what they would have done if they'd heard us listening?' Scorpius demanded.

'Well, perhaps you shouldn't have pulled us behind a tapestry to eavesdrop,' she retorted.

'Where are you going now?'

'To my dormitory.'

'Your dormitory? Weasley, do you not understand what we just heard?'

'Oh, what? You want to go report broken curfews to the teachers? You're such a saint.'

'Don't be like that,' he snapped. 'You know what that was. You know what they were talking about. It's this August again – the same one they met at Christmas.'

'So, what? What are we supposed to do? They're allowed to meet with people. The teachers aren't going to care.'

'You are _impossible_. What is wrong with you?'

'Nothing is _wrong with me_ , Malfoy. I don't trust them at all, but telling the teachers we overheard them is going to do nothing but get them detentions for breaking curfews.'

'But that's why we need to find out more,' said Scorpius. 'Imagine what we could hear from them if we could follow them up to the astronomy tower.'

'Well, go ahead. Go follow them.' He gave no response, and so she forced a smirk and said, 'Oh, what? Are you _scared?_ '

'We need the cloak from Albus's brother,' Scorpius informed her. 'They said next weekend – next weekend if a Hogsmeade weekend. If we could follow them, find out who August is-'

'Well, you have fun,' she told him. 'This has all been riveting, but I'm going to bed.'

She made to turn away, but he stepped in front of her. He was one of the few people in their year level taller than her, and it annoyed her. She folded her arms, trying to make herself look more severe than she knew she did.

'You're in my way,' she told him.

'You are such a child,' he informed her. 'Do you really not care if they kill more people?'

'I'm not naïve enough to think I can do anything about it,' she said. 'Nor am I naïve to fall for this little act you've tricked Albus with. I have no idea why you're so interested, but I know it can't be altruism.'

'You don't know anything about me, Weasley,' he snapped at her.

'I know your father's a death eater,' she said, 'and I'm not interested in helping you.'

'And I know you think you're really fucking superior, but it's really, really bloody tedious,' he shot at her. 'I don't want your help, alright?'

'Good. I don't want to give it.'

'Good.'

'Good.'

They turned away at the same moment and started back towards their common rooms.

* * *

 **Song Credit** **: _No Big Deal_ by Cullen Omori.**

 **A/N: Thirteen chapters and all it's come to is the reluctant prefect patrol partners trope omg?**

 **Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to receive a review if you have anything (or nothing) to say! x**


	14. Teenage Icon

_07/11/2018_

* * *

 ** _Teenage Icon  
_** _I'm not magnetic or mythical  
I'm suburban and typical  
But I've got it, I've got it, I'm overrun with it all  
Seductive charm, a way with words  
So effortless, not leather clad or dangerous  
But I always did it like a real rebel would  
I had a photo where John Lennon  
May have stood or so I'm told_

* * *

Two days passed between the _Prophet_ announcing Ron Weasley's reinstatement as senior investigator and his daughter receiving the letter from London. Albus and Chandra were in the midst of a conversation she was trying not to listen to as she filled a glass of pumpkin juice.

'I was so looking forward to going back to school,' sighed Chandra. 'But we have so much homework already.'

Albus nodded in consensus. 'And James says we need to start training four days a week again. It's ridiculous. Our next match isn't for ages and the pitch is still covered in snow.'

Chandra gave him a sympathetic smile. 'What do you have now?'

'Care of Magical Creatures. You?'

'Ancient runes,' said Chandra. 'But I just absolutely have to finish this Defence essay. Have you started?'

'Er… tried to.'

'Come to the library after last period,' said Chandra brightly. 'We can help each other.'

'You don't want my help. I'm terrible at Defence. I'm the worst in the whole year.'

'Oh, no you're not, Al. And Connor said he'd give me a hand, so he can look over yours too.'

'Oh, that's… nice of him. Only I'm supposed to be at Quidditch practice tonight.'

At the sound of wings beating overhead, Rose looked up, searching for a sign of her parents' owl, her heart pounding in anticipation, and then finally she saw her.

Henrietta landed before her, narrowly missing her plate of scrambled eggs. The owl deposited the letter in her lap, nuzzled her hand, and then took flight again to reach Hugo at the end of the table where he was eating with her friends.

She picked up the envelope and slit it over with her butter knife. She had been waiting for the letter for the last two days, but now, as she opened the scroll of parchment and scanned her mother's slim, slanted handwriting, all she could feel was angry.

 _Dear Rose,_

 _I hope your first week back is treating you well. You're lucky you left London when you did – it's been raining all week. I'm very jealous thinking of you and Hugo up in the castle surrounded by snow._

 _I'm sure by now the professors are starting to prepare you for your OWLs. I know it must seem arduous, but I'm sure you'll appreciate it when it comes to exam times._

 _Teddy and Victoire have decided on the twenty-fifth of August for the wedding. Knowing Teddy, I must say that's much sooner than I expected of them, but I suppose Victoire will be very organised. She says she wants to do it when you're all home from school and doesn't want to wait another whole year._

 _You probably saw in the paper yesterday, but Dad and I forgot to tell you that he's going to be doing some work for the Auror Office. He'll be away from the shop, but I'm sure he'll be back there in a few weeks. Until then George has Fred helping him. He and Juniper are trying to save some money before they head overseas – again!_

 _I'm missing you very much already, but I know you'll be having a lovely time being back at school._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Mum_

She opened her book bag and tossed the parchment inside, before getting to her feet.

'Where are you off to, Rosie?' asked Chandra.

'Class.'

'Oh, but…' Chandra glanced towards Rose's plateful of untouched scrambled eggs.

'I'm not hungry,' she said in answer. 'I'll see you at lunch.'

And she turned away, stalking along the Great Hall and through the oak doors into the entrance hall. She passed Hugo as she did so. He was laughing with his friends, his letter from their mother lying unopened next to his cup of tea.'

Her anger somehow divided her from the rest of the world; she felt oddly distant from the other students striding in and out of the Great Hall. Forty-eight hours she had been waiting – waiting for them to find the courage to pick up a quill and acknowledge what she already knew. Even in the letter her mother had prefaced it with nothingness, talking about the weather and OWLs and weddings. Her father's return to the Auror Office had been framed within a space of inconsequence; it was to be thought about only in terms of the shop and George and Fred, but nothing in the realm of the war and the Ministry. Her mother would never suggest to her that it was anything other than the ordinary.

'Rosie, wait up.'

She had made it to the first-floor landing before Albus managed to catch up with her. He took hold of her shoulder as he said her name, and she turned to face him. He peered up at her with wide, pitying eyes: she hated people looking at her like that.

'What?' she said.

'Are you alright?'

'I'm fine. You're going to be late down to Hagrid's.'

'Yes, but… you looked a bit…'

' _A bit what?_

Albus hesitated under her sharp glare. 'I just… was the letter from your parents?'

'Yes.'

'What did it say?'

In reply, she tore open her book bag, snatched out the roll of parchment, and forced it into his hand. 'It didn't say _anything._ They never say anything.'

Albus unfurled the parchment. She watched him read it over before he looked back up at her. 'Rosie…'

'Oh, don't be so fucking pitying, Albus.'

'I just… Maybe she didn't know what to say.'

Rose ignored this, and said instead, 'I don't know why our parents wanted children if they don't want to ever speak to us.'

'That's not true.'

'It _is_ , Albus. How many times have you had to find out about your dad going to St Mungo's from the _Prophet_ rather than him? God, I mean, my mum gets made head of the DMLE and I find out from bloody Lucy. Lucy instead of her.'

Albus didn't seem to have a response to this, and so he reached out to try to grip her shoulder, but she shook him off.

'Doesn't it bother you?' she asked. 'Doesn't it make you angry?'

'I… well…'

'Or does it not bother you anymore? Now that you've got Mei to keep you occupied?'

Albus sighed. 'Rose, don't…'

'What?' she said. 'Am I not allowed to speak her name?'

'God, Weasley, do you ever give it a rest?' came the drawling voice of Scorpius Malfoy.

Albus and Rose both spun around to find him standing at the top of the stairs, watching them with his arms folded, looking at Rose as if she had just spat at him.

Rose folded her arms in a huff, mirroring him. 'Seriously, Malfoy? Don't you have anything better to do than follow us around?'

Scorpius rolled his eyes, taking a step closer towards them. He glanced around to see if any of the students passing up and down the corridor, before he looked at Rose. When he spoke again he had lowered his voice. 'Have you told him yet?'

Albus looked back and forth between the two of them. 'Told me what?'

Scorpius gave an angry sigh of dismay, shaking his head. 'You _haven't_ told him?'

'You tell him if you think it's so important,' Rose bit back.

'You don't think this is important? Jesus, Weasley, you're unbelievable…'

'Oh, stop with your moral outrage,' snapped Rose. 'Don't pretend like you care.'

'Please, can you two just… just not?' sighed Albus. 'What haven't you told me?'

Rose rolled her eyes. Scorpius glanced around again. Students were trailing up and down the marble staircase on their way to first period, but nobody was looking their way.

'We saw the Slytherins last night,' Scorpius informed him in a whisper. 'While we were on prefects' patrol.'

Albus's eyes swelled. 'What were they doing?'

'Going up the astronomy tower. But we heard them talking. They're going to meet this August bloke again. Next weekend.'

'Next weekend? In Hogsmeade?'

'Must be.'

'Well, what do we do?' said Albus. 'Tell the teachers?'

Rose gave a heavy sigh. 'Albus, _they're not going to believe you_.'

'They might…'

'No, she's right,' said Scorpius certainly. 'We need to follow them.'

Albus nodded thoroughly and looked to Rose. 'Rosie, will you-'

' _No_.'

'I didn't even say anything!'

'I'm not being a part of this,' she said, 'and I'm not interested in talking about it anymore with _him_.' She jerked her head towards Scorpius.

Albus opened his mouth to reply, but Rose didn't wait to hear it. With her arms folded she turned on her heel and joined the crowd of students trudging up the staircase to first period.

Albus and Scorpius watched her go, before Scorpius looked back at Albus. 'What is _wrong_ with her?'

Albus shrugged. 'She… er… she's a bit upset. I don't know if you've been reading the papers… Her dad's gone back to the Auror Office.'

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. _'That's_ what's wrong with her?'

'Er… I suppose so.'

'Okay, so, what's her excuse for every other day of her life?'

In spite of himself, Albus smirked. 'You should ask her.'

'No thanks. I don't fancy having my neck slit.'

'Fair enough. Look, I need to get down to Care of Magical Creatures. Which way are you headed?'

'Muggle studies, but I can be late. I'll walk you.' He gestured forward and they started walking. 'How are we going to get the cloak?'

'Well, I've got Quidditch practice tonight,' said Albus. 'I could ask James about it then.'

'And then on the weekend – what do we do then?'

'We'll wait until Zabini, Rosier, Goyle and Montague turn up to breakfast,' said Albus. 'You know, get up early so we don't miss them and then follow them into the village, and once we know where they're headed to we could tell the teachers.'

Scorpius nodded in agreement. 'I'll have to come up with something to tell Zaina.'

'Oh, but she won't… won't mind, will she?'

'She'll mind I'm not spending the day with her.'

'Oh, right. So things are – are good with her?'

'Yeah, I guess,' said Scorpius. 'I think I owe you though.'

'Oh, well… you're welcome. Thanks for – you know, with Vane…'

'He's a prick.'

'Yeah.'

They lapsed briefly into silence as they started down the marble staircase, fighting to keep themselves steady against the throng of students heading up the stairs. Once they had made it to the bottom of the stairs, they fell in line with each other and crossed the entrance hall.

Stepping through the oak doors into the January chill, they tugged their coats around them against the wind and started down the sloping pathway to Professor Hagrid's cabin.

'I suppose I better tell Mei…' But Albus wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Well, tell her something.'

'You're not going to tell her the truth?'

'Er, no but… you're not telling Zaina.'

'Yeah, but Zaina's Zaina.'

'Right, and… and Mei's Mei.'

Scorpius raised a hand in defeat. 'Alright. Fine. Your business, not mine.'

They came to a halt where the pathway turned into cobbled steps. The groundskeeper's cabin sat at the bottom of the sloping hill. The rest of the class had already convened in the pumpkin patch. At the front of the group, Professor Hagrid was speaking to the group, holding aloft a large ugly bird.

'Fucking hell, is that a cockatrice?' said Scorpius.

'Yeah, but he's very well trained.'

Scorpius shook his head in disbelief. 'How do they let him teach?' When Albus didn't reply, Scorpius seemed to remember who he was talking to, for he added quickly, 'Looks like you're late.'

'Yeah. You're later, though.'

'Yeah, well.' And he shrugged. 'Enjoy it.'

'You, too.'

* * *

'I can't believe you still make everyone wear these.'

Harry looked up from his sheet of parchment. Ron was leaning against the bookshelf across the room, fumbling with the collar of his aurors' robes, trying to loosen them.

'It's not my doing. Take it up with Hermione.'

'We looked good in them when we were twenty,' mused Ron. 'Now we just look like idiots.'

'Do you have to think aloud?' asked Harry. 'I'm trying to work.'

' _You_ called the meeting.'

'It hasn't started yet. Leave me alone.'

'It started ten minutes ago. Hermione's late.'

Harry glanced down at his watch. Ron was right. Sighing, Harry rolled up his slip of parchment. He slipped his glasses off his ears, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

'You look like shit,' said Ron.

'Thank you.'

'You should have taken time off. I'm taking over the investigation. I can handle it.'

'Believe me, I'd love to hand it all over to you, but it's not just the investigation. I need to organise the roster before all the departments re-open next week,' said Harry. 'Kingsley's said he wants aurors with the department heads at all times. I'll have to pull recruits out of the training program to make that happen, which means I'll need to take on more recruits, which means we need to take more aurors off the field and have them training the recruits, but I don't have enough people to take aurors off the field.'

'Tell Hermione. She'll make it work.'

'I have. Rowle's objecting. He says we can't take anyone off the field at the moment.'

Sighing, Ron moved across the room to take a seat at Harry's desk. 'It wouldn't be the end of the world if you took some time off, you know?'

Harry considered this. He knew Ron was watching him, but he didn't want to meet his eye, and so to preoccupy himself he unfurled his sheet of parchment once more. It was a pointless exercise, as he had met an impasse: he needed more staff, and he didn't have more.

There was a knock at the door and both he and Ron looked up.

'You don't need to knock,' Harry called impatiently, and the door opened, revealing Hermione, her arms laden with rolls of parchment. She was looking thin and tired and her bushy hair was coming loose from its braids. She shut the door behind them, saying as she did, 'I'm sorry I'm late.'

'You've got to get Rowle to agree to have more aurors training the new recruits,' Ron told her. 'And why do we need still to wear these robes?'

'Hello to you too,' said Hermione curtly, collapsing into the chair beside her husband and depositing the rolls of parchment on Harry's desk. 'I just had a meeting with the Wizengamot.'

'And?' said Harry.

'They've been debating security measures, and they've decided they want aurors stationed on every corner Diagon Alley at all times.'

Harry sighed and reclined in his chair. 'I knew they'd want that. With what aurors, exactly? We're already short-staffed.'

'Rowle has a solution to that,' said Hermione grimly. 'He wants a hundred more recruits by the end of the month. There'll be no training period – they'll be put out on the field immediately with a mentor and learn on the job.'

Ron swore under his breath.

'No training period?' Harry demanded. 'What good does he think untrained aurors are going to do? They'll be killed on their first day.'

'I _know_ that,' said Hermione. Her voice sounded strained, as if she was trying to contain her anger. With an unsteady hand, she gestured to the rolls of parchment she had dropped onto Harry's desk. 'These are consent forms. The Wizengamot wants consent from every Ministry staff member absolving us of the responsibility if they should suffer any injury while fulfilling Ministry duties.'

'Oh, brilliant,' growled Harry. 'That really solves the problem, doesn't it? People getting killed doesn't really count as long as we're not responsible.'

Ron gave a sniff of laughter. Hermione ignored both of them and said, 'I need you to get them out to all of your aurors so they can sign them as soon as possible.'

'And what do I do when people refuse to sign them?'

Hermione gave a low sigh. 'Tell them to send a complaint to my office.'

'And what will you do then?'

'Harry, _please_ ,' urged Hermione. 'Just send them out, will you?'

'Okay, fine. _Fine_. Look, can we talk about what we're actually here to talk about? We're running late as it is.'

'Good point,' said Ron. He took out his wand and gave it a wave, conjuring up two identical scarlet folders which he sat down on Harry's desk, on top of Hermione's mound of paperwork. 'The autopsies are back from St Mungo's. There's a copy of the report there for each of you.'

Hermione snatched up one of the folders and opened it on her lap. Harry did nothing but eye his copy with distaste. He looked back to Ron. 'Do you think you could summarise it for me?'

'Thought you might ask for that,' said Ron. He shifted in his seat, once again struggling with the collar of his robes. 'The aurors weren't killed in combat, and it wasn't from the building collapsing. They all died in the same way: exposure to some type of dark material.'

'What type of material?' asked Harry.

'Oh, you'll love this. We asked Unspeakables to take a look, but it's nothing that the Department of Mysteries is familiar with.'

Hermione looked up from scanning the autopsy report, looking alarmed. 'That's impossible. How can they be unfamiliar with it?'

'See, that's the thing,' said Ron. 'They think it must be the invention of whoever detonated it. We've been working under the assumption that the aurors were killed trying to defend whoever this was from infiltrating the Ministry, but I don't think that's the case. I don't think they were even present when this stuff was detonated, because otherwise they would have been killed too. I think that whatever this material was has been in the atrium for a while, concealed and waiting to be detonated from a distance. The atrium is open to the public: anyone could have left it there.'

'But what did they want?' asked Hermione beseechingly. 'If they weren't planning on infiltrating the Ministry, why attack us?'

'Probably to scare us,' said Harry. 'To let us know just how powerful they are. This _Reclamation Army_ is trying to make a point. If we're to believe their claims that they killed Gamp and destroyed the building in Hogsmeade then we need to consider the possibility that they're going to just keep killing people until they get what they want.'

Ron gave a low groan and raised a hand to rub his eyes. As if unconsciously, he reached with his other hand to grasp Hermione fingers. 'I really thought these days were over,' he said.

Harry saw Hermione lace her fingers through Ron's. 'It's not going to be like it was,' she said. 'The Ministry's different now – we'll find out who did this before it escalates any further.'

'It doesn't seem so different,' said Harry. 'Rowle's out there getting the Wizengamot to pass his laws, convincing people that this Reclamation Army is the product of blood equality. If things continue like this he'll win the election next year.'

'But things won't continue like this,' insisted Hermione. 'This isn't a war. It just _isn't_. And we can't let Rowle convince people it is.'

'It's not a war yet,' said Harry, 'but if it turns into one you realise we'll be fighting on the wrong side.'

' _Harry_ ,' hissed Hermione.

'Mate, that's not true,' said Ron.

'We're fighting alongside Muggle-haters like Rowle. That seems like the wrong side to me,' replied Harry.

'We're fighting the people who killed twenty-five aurors,' said Hermione rather coolly. 'We need to remember that, Harry.' She let go of Ron's hand to check her watch before saying, 'I need to speak to Kingsley about re-opening the atrium next week. Was there anything else?'

'That's it for now,' said Ron.

She got to her feet, brushing her hand over Ron's arm as she did so. She crossed to the door, pausing to look back at Harry. 'Please make sure the consent forms get signed, alright?'

'Yes, yes.'

'Thank you.'

She left his office, shutting the door behind her. Ron sat watching the door, waiting for her footsteps to fade away, before he looked back to Harry. 'You shouldn't have said that.'

'Said what?'

'About us fighting on the wrong side.'

'You disagree?'

'You just shouldn't have said it.' He got to his feet and waved a hand towards the consent forms. 'Suppose I should sign one of those, shouldn't I?'

'Or don't,' said Harry. 'Won't make any difference if you're dead.'

'That's the spirit, mate.' He picked up a roll of parchment, slipping the consent form into his pocket before he strode from Harry's office.

* * *

When he wanted to be unimpeded by his senses, he got drunk. When he wanted to be in control, he got on his broom.

Inebriation offered an intoxicating oblivion; all of his senses more and less at the same time. The world was diminished to simple things; another drink, another cigarette, another girl. Life was full of tangible, touchable pleasure.

But on the Quidditch pitch, it was all power. His limbs bent the way he told them to. The broom obeyed his touch. His body weaved through the air unburdened.

It had been this way for as long as he could remember. From the first time he rode a broom and every time after that. The longer he did it and the further he pushed himself and the harder it became, the more control he had.

But today, with the cold numbing his fingers and the icy wind battering their brooms and his arm screaming in protest, he had no control. He couldn't make the broom move the way he wanted; he couldn't get the quaffle through the hoops. Today there was no control, only blinding frustration.

He watched, for what felt like the hundredth time in their hour's practice, with his chest bursting with anger and his limbs feeling haplessly dulled, as the quaffle slipped through his fingers and hurtled to the ground. It landed against the frozen pitch with an ugly thud.

' _Fuck!_ '

'Good save!' called Louis.

James didn't smile. He swooped down, snatching the quaffle off of the ground. He circled back up, holding it with his left arm. His right arm was too painful to serve with.

He tossed the Quaffle to Adam, who passed it to Louis, who passed it back to Adam, who swooped towards the goal posts, before Kim intercepted it.

'Farouk, stop slowing down when you shoot,' James instructed. 'Watch how Louis does it.'

Kim passed the ball to Louis, who proceeded to demonstrate. Louis scored again but James sighed, dissatisfied.

'You're doing it too quick,' James told Louis. 'Show him what you're doing.'

'How can I show him how to shoot without slowing down if you want me to slow down to show him?' asked Louis.

'For fuck's sake, I'll just do it. Give me the quaffle.'

Rather than toss the quaffle, Louis flew to his side and held it out for him.

'I don't want you to drop it again,' said Louis innocently.

James didn't have the patience to think of anything clever to say and so, glaring at his cousin, he snatched the quaffle from Louis. He chose to do so with his right arm; although his elbow was still throbbing, he was determined to break it back it. It was as if he could exorcise the damage through the pain.

He moved towards the goal posts, raising the quaffle, willing his arm to obey, taking aim…

' _Watch it!_ '

He spun around at Finlay's warning. He had half a second to register that a bludger was going to hit him. He pulled up, trying to dive away, with his movements were too slow, and it collided into his right arm and hurtled away.

Pain ripped through him and before he could stop himself he gasped out, ' _Fucking hell!'_

The quaffle fell from his grip, once again thudding into the earth. He clutched his arm to his chest, willing the pulsating pain to stop, breathing deeply. He knew his team-mates were watching him and so he forced himself to straighten up, moving his shaking arm back to clutch his broom handle.

Finlay approached on his broom from where he and Xan had been practising with the bludgers. 'You okay?' he asked.

'You're supposed to be aiming them at each other, not at us,' James barked at him.

'I know, I know, I missed it…'

'No shit, Fin. I realised that much. Missing them isn't going to be good enough for our next match, is it?'

Finlay didn't reply, which only made it worse. James would have preferred if he had risen to meet his anger, but all James could see in his eyes was pity.

As if to break the silence, Adam pulled his broom away from the hoops and dropped down to collect the quaffle.

'Leave it, Farouk,' snapped James. 'We're done for the day. Everyone get down.'

Very little was said at the seven of them landed. As his team-mates stowed away the equipment, James busied himself adjusting the laces on his boots. He needed an excuse not to speak to any of them. He could feel hot, wet blood trickling along the inside of his sleeve: the impact of his bludger had re-opened his wound.

'James, you coming?'

He looked around to find Finlay was standing over him, his beaters' bat slung over his arm.

'No, I need to keep practising. I can't think with you lot here constantly needing correction.'

But still Finlay remained passive. Lowering his voice so nobody else could hear, he said, 'Your arm…'

James straightened up. 'It's fine.'

'I told you not to try to fly yet.'

'Yes, I remember. You were right as always. Do you want a gold star or something?'

Finally, Finlay relented. With one last sorry look at James, he turned away and started towards the change rooms with the rest of the team.

Once alone, James eased his arm out, testing how it moved. The bone was mended, but Finlay had told him that cursed wounds healed slowly. He wondered, not for the first time, if he could manufacture a story that Hannah would believe in order to get it seen by a healer.

'Are you coming to the change rooms?'

He glanced around once more. It wasn't Finlay, but Albus. The rest of the team had departed, but his brother remained. He was standing with his broom hanging limply in his arm, watching James expectantly.

'No, I'm going to practice some more.'

'Right, well… Do you want me to play keeper so you can practise scoring?'

James gave a harsh laugh. 'I don't want you to embarrass yourself.'

'Yeah, okay, well…' Albus raised a hand to show James the snitch he was still holding. 'I might keep practising too.'

James gave a low, angry sigh. 'Do you have something to say to me?'

'I… No.'

'Obviously you do, but if you're not going to say it can you go away, please?'

'Right… okay.'

James could see Albus hesitate, but he never-the-less turned away.

James picked up the quaffle and mounted his broom and soared upwards. He would get better: he _had_ to get better. He would tell Hannah whatever was needed to get her to fix it.

'I stayed over at Mei's place on Christmas,' he heard Albus call.

James brought his broom to a halt and looked back at Albus. He was standing below, cast in James's shadow, gazing up at his brother expectantly.

'And?' James called back.

'And we… you know…'

Albus trailed offer, but he had caught James's attention. He brought his broom back to the ground, stepping of, with the quaffle slung under his arm.

'Ducky,' said James, very sternly, 'Are you trying to tell me you're not a virgin anymore?'

Albus looked uncertain, but not embarrassed. 'No.'

'No, that's not what you're telling me or no, you're not a virgin?'

'The second one.'

With the hand unoccupied with the quaffle, James put his hand to his chest and gave a wistful sigh. 'Oh, Ducky. I'm so proud. I didn't think you had it in you.'

'Er… thanks.'

'You're all grown up. You're a _man,_ Albus.'

'Oh, shut up.'

'Mum and Dad will be so pleased when I write to them.'

' _James!_ '

'I'm only _kidding_.' And he took a step towards Albus, slinging his good arm around Albus's neck and pulling him into his chest. He ruffled Albus's hair.

' _Get off, James_.'

'But I'm _excited!_ You're not totally useless, are you?'

Albus managed to push him off, stepping away. 'Okay, stop now.'

'How was it? Did she manage to keep to a straight face?'

'Oh, fuck off,' snapped Albus. 'I only told you because – because-'

'You're not sure if you did it right?'

'Because I need the cloak to I can get to her dormitory,' finished Albus.

James raised his eyebrows. 'Dad's cloak?'

'Yeah. You've got it, right?'

James spun the Quaffle on his finger, looking sly. 'I might.'

Albus drew a deep breath, willing himself to persist. 'Well, can I have it, please?'

'Perhaps.'

 _'_ _James_ , come on.'

'What do I get out of it?'

'What do you – why would you get anything? I only want to borrow it. You can have it back.'

'But what if I need it?'

'God, you are such a prat. When do I ever ask you for anything? And you can't even lend me a cloak which doesn't even belong to you. Dad didn't say you could have it. The cloak's as much mine as it is yours – _what?_ '

James was grinning. 'Oh, Ducky, you're so _touchy_. I'm only teasing. I would never deny you pleasure.'

'Alright. So – so I can have it?'

'If that's what's required for you to get shagged. When do you need it?'

'For the weekend.'

'I'm sure I can make arrangements,' said James, tossing the Quaffle in the air and catching it again. 'I want details, though.'

'Details – about?'

'About Mei, obviously.'

'No.'

'If you say so,' said James, 'but I know you want to give them. I'll wait. I'm not in a hurry.'

'Right, so when can I have the cloak?'

'All in good time, Ducky. I'll deliver. But for now you need to go away and leave me alone so I can practise, okay?'

'Yeah, sure. Cool. Thanks, James.'

Finally, Albus obeyed, picking up his broom and turning away. He trudged away through the snow towards the change rooms.

* * *

'It looks _awful_.'

'It looks _fine_.'

'I knew I should have waited until the retrograde is over. I can't let Connor see it like this.'

'Chandra, it's _fine_.'

But Chandra was looking on the verge of tears, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The tendrils of hair that she had trimmed away were lying in pools in the bathroom basin. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her wand.

'What are you doing?' asked Rose.

'I have to grow it back!'

Rose caught her wrist. She had seen Chandra attempt this before with disastrous consequences. ' _Don't.'_

'I'm late for divination! I can't go in there looking like this!'

'We'll go down to the hospital wing. I'm sure Hannah has something to grow back hair.'

'But – but divination…'

'Firenze won't mind if you're late. Come on.'

Rose took her hand and led her out of the bathroom back into their dormitory. Chandra paused to snatch up a scarf from her trunk and wrap it as much around her head as she could before they hurried down the stairs and through the common room. The hallways were relatively empty, sans for a few stragglers hurrying off to class, and Rose was pleased to find nobody paid them much notice as they descended the stairs to the hospital wing.

When they reached the door of the hospital wing, Rose let go of Chandra's hand to open the door and usher her inside. Hannah had her wand out and was standing over a bed occupied by a first-year who had sprouted antlers that looked like the product of a transfiguration mishap. The matron looked round at them at the door opened.

'Afternoon, you two,' she said, before turning back to the antlered first-year and giving her head a sharp rap with her wand. The antlers began to recede. 'What can I do for you?'

'Do you have anything that grows back hair?' asked Rose.

Hannah eyed the scarf Chandra had wrapped around her neck. 'Oh, Chandra, not _again_.'

This was enough to break the dam of tears Chandra had been fighting to hold. She gave a shuddering murmur before she buried her face in her hands and began to cry.

'Oh, dear, that won't do any good,' sighed Hannah. She crossed over to the two fifth-years.

Raising her wand, Hannah aimed it at the door of the medicine cabinet across the room, which flew open and a vial of pink serum levitated towards them into Hannah's hand. She gestured for Chandra to sit down on the bed closest to them and forced the vial into her hand.

'Drink that,' said Hannah, and Chandra obeyed immediately, uncapping the vial and downing it in one gulp.

Rose sat down on the foot of Chandra's bed. She watched as Chandra unwrapped the scarf from her head, clutching at the ends of her shoulder-length hair, looking for any sign of growing.

'It's not working,' whimpered Chandra.

'It will start growing in a few minutes, but it will take about an hour for it to get back to how long it was before,' said Hannah impatiently. 'I'll write you a note excusing you from your next class. Rosie, what do you have now?'

'Free period,' said Rose.

'Oh, really? Professor Cadwallader told me has the fifth-years this afternoon,' said Hannah pointedly. 'I was sure you were taking arithmancy.'

Knowing she was being told to leave, Rose rolled her eyes and got back off the bed. 'I'll see you at dinner,' she said to Chandra. ' _Stop pulling at it.'_

Chandra whipped her hands away from her hair and waved Rose goodbye. The prefect left the hospital wing and started down the corridor towards the arithmancy classroom. She was in no hurry: Professor Cadwallader wasn't the type to give detentions for lateness.

By the time she had made it to the fifth floor, she was already questioning whether she ought to bother going. Her dorm was empty; she could spend the afternoon reading with Chandra's cat on her lap. Would Hannah bother to follow up whether she made it class? She somewhat doubted it.

'There you are.'

She stopped in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder. She had passed by the prefects' office, from which Lucy had just emerged, wearing a scowl.

'I came looking for you in arithmancy and you weren't in class,' continued Lucy.

'I had to take Chandra to the hospital wing,' said Rose. 'Why were you looking for me?'

Lucy stepped aside from the doorway and ushered her forward. 'Come inside.'

'Lucy, I'm late for class.'

' _Get in, Rose_.'

Sighing, Rose trudged back and stepped into the prefects' office. She wasn't alone; sitting at the desk beneath the window was Scorpius Malfoy. He was tilting back his chair, looking bored, but when their eyes met he scowled at her.

'What's this?' asked Rose.

'It's the prefects' office,' drawled Malfoy. Rose ignored him.

Lucy stepped back into the room, shutting the door behind her. She gestured to the empty chair beside Malfoy. 'Sit down,' she said to Rose.

Rose obeyed reluctantly. She dropped down into her seat, trying to avoid looking at the Ravenclaw, and Lucy took her seat across from them. She didn't look pleased, but Rose didn't think was unusual for Lucy.

'Why'd you call us in here?' Scorpius asked the head girl.

'You two didn't finish your patrol last night,' she replied venomously.

'Yes, we did,' said Malfoy without hesitation. Rose nodded in agreement.

'No, you didn't,' snapped Lucy. 'I was waiting for you at the end of the route. You never showed up.'

'You held me up in the common room last night, so we finished a little late,' said Rose. 'You must have missed us.'

Lucy's freckled cheeks were taking on colour as her anger was rising. 'I did not _miss you_ , Rose. I waited for an hour!'

Rose raised her eyebrows. 'You waited an _hour?_ '

'Yes!'

'Why'd you do that?' asked Scorpius. He too seemed bemused as to why Lucy cared.

'Because I could tell Rose wasn't going to do what I told her to do.'

Scorpius gave a sigh, and cast Rose a disparaging look, before looking back to Lucy. 'I did _try_ to tell her to finish the patrol-'

'Oh, _please,'_ hissed Rose. ' _He_ left of his own accord. It has nothing to do with me. It's not as if I imperiused him.'

'Well, I don't see why I should patrol with _her_ ,' said Scorpius hotly. 'I was perfectly happy to patrol with Hamish Coote –'

'And I was perfectly happy patrolling with Mei Zhao,' lied Rose. 'If you would just put us with other people-'

'You both know that's not true,'' snapped Lucy. 'I've asked Hamish and he told me you missed two patrols in December.'

'I was ill,' he insisted.

Lucy ignored him and turned to Rose. 'And Mei says you were late to every single patrol you had together.'

Rather than refute this, Rose said, 'What if I patrol with Hamish? I'll start turning up on time, I swear.'

'And I'll patrol with Mei,' said Scorpius. 'I'll do extra hours if you need me to.'

' _No!_ ' growled Lucy. 'You two aren't allowed to just pick and choose what jobs you will and won't do. While I was waiting for you last night I found _four_ students out of bed. You realise the patrols are there for a reason? It's not safe for them to be wandering around at night! You're supposed to be prefects. And Merlin knows why the professors chose you two, but they did, and you both need to just grow up and do your duty.'

'If you want a different prefect from my house then pick someone else,' said Rose. 'I don't care.'

'Pick someone else? You – I…' The concept that somebody would turn down the title of prefect seemed too much for Lucy to comprehend. She stopped talking, heaving a deep sigh. 'You can't _opt_ out of being prefect, Rose. You'll do your patrol as it's assigned to you. And if you don't I can make sure you won't have any Hogsmeade visits until you graduate. _And_ I can talk to Professor Karim about having people taken off the Quidditch team.'

Rose and Scorpius were both silent, glaring across the desk at Lucy. It seemed both of them had exhausted their bartering, and neither of them were prepared to risk being banned from Hogsmeade or Quidditch.

'So, you'll both turn up to your patrol next week,' Lucy concluded. 'You'll both be on time, and you'll both follow the set route all the way from the beginning to end. And if you don't I'll know.' She opened the top draw of her desk and withdrew a sheet of lilac parchment, brandishing it in their faces. 'I'm going to pin this up here in the prefects' office. You both need to sign your names with the time you finish your patrol. It's bewitched, so if you try to falsify it at all I'll know. Any questions?'

Lucy seemed to take their silence as assent, for she gave a satisfied nod and returned the lilac parchment to her desk. 'Good. You can both go then. But _don't_ think this means you get a free period – I'll be checking with Professor Cadwallader to make sure you both turned up.'

They both pushed back their chairs, Rose doing so with such vigour that she almost upended her chair. They both marched to the door, nearly colliding in the doorway, before Scorpius pushed past her into the corridor. She pulled the door after her, slamming it shut.

Once out in the corridor, Rose started again towards arithmancy. She wanted to get ahead of Scorpius so she wouldn't have to look at him as they walked, but she heard him break into a jog to catch up with her.

'Weasley, wait.'

'We're late.'

'Cadwallader doesn't care. Stop, look…' And he sidled in front of her, impeding her path.

She gave a long sigh. 'Please, can you just get out of my way? I'm not in the mood.'

'Implying that at other times you're a ray of sunshine?'

She frowned at him. 'Is there any point to this?'

'Yes, if you'd let me talk.'

' _Talk_ , then.'

'Well, I just… look,' he said with difficulty. 'I was shitty last week.'

'When are you not?'

'I'm trying to say sorry, Weasley.'

'Are you? I wouldn't have guessed.'

'I shouldn't have said anything about Thomas when I know she's your friend.'

Rose gave a cold laugh. 'You shouldn't have said anything about her because you don't even know her.' And she pushed past him, continuing down the passageway, but he followed.

'Look,' he said, following after her, 'we can't just _refuse_ to patrol together. Your cousin will make our lives hell.'

'I'm not _refusing_ ,' she snapped. 'I just don't want to.'

'Neither do I,' he growled, 'and I know you may have nothing to do with your time-'

'This is you saying sorry?'

'- but I do, and I'm not getting thrown off the Quidditch team because you're incapable of acting like a grown up and just being fucking civil with each other, okay?'

'Don't ask me to be civil after you've just tried to blame me for us not finishing prefect duty.'

' _You left patrol!'_

'So did you!'

'Only after you did! You had a little tantrum and – and…' He stopped himself, drawing a deep breath, following along in her tracks. 'Look, I know you're upset about your dad…'

She stopped so suddenly that he ran into her. They both stepped away from each other, glaring.

' _Excuse me?_ ' she demanded.

'Albus told me that's why you're being such a brat, and I sympathise-'

' _Sympathise?_ I'm not a bloody invalid, Malfoy! Is it that hard for you to fathom that maybe – _maybe_ I just don't want to _patrol with you?_ '

'Well, you're going to have to!'

'That doesn't mean I have to be _nice to you!'_

'Good, I won't be nice to you either!'

It was then that the door to their left was wrenched open. In their anger, neither of them had noticed that they had come to a halt outside the arithmancy classroom. Professor Cadwallader was standing in the doorway, clutching the doorhandle, looking between them.

'Mr Malfoy, Ms Weasley,' he said slowly, sounding rather bored, 'if you're going to yell at each other would you mind doing it somewhere else where you won't interrupt my class?'

Rose and Scorpius were silent. They both felt that they had a lot more to say, but the presence of Professor Cadwallader had made them forget the clever things they wanted to say to one another. It was also hard to ignore the snickering faces of students in the classroom trying to peer around Cadwallader to get a better look at them.

'So,' said Cadwallader, 'do you want to keep arguing or are you going to get a hold of yourselves and come inside?'

Laughter could be heard from within the classroom. Refusing to look at each other, Rose and Scorpius both started forward. Professor Cadwallader stepped out of the doorway to let them step inside the classroom, and he closed the door again after each other.

'For those of you that came late,' said the Professor as he strode back to the chalkboard, 'turn to page two-hundred and eighty-nine.'

Scorpius dropped into a seat at the front of the classroom and Rose, in order to put as much distance between the two of them as she could, hurried to the back of the room, ignoring the curious glances she was getting from other students.

She could feel her hands shaking with anger as she opened her bag and pulled out her arithmancy book. She looked towards the front of the room; Scorpius was scribbling in his book, dutifully copying down the notes on the chalkboard. His sycophancy only infuriated her more.

But whatever anger she held within her there was no refuting it; she would be patrolling with him, because he was in no way worth missing every Hogsmeade visit for the next two and a half years of school.

* * *

The evening of the Hogsmeade visit dawned like most January mornings. A fresh coat of snow lay across the grounds and when he arrived at breakfast he saw that the Great Hall's ceiling displayed a sheet of heavy, milky clouds that were threatening to deliver another layer of snow.

He had overslept, going against their plan. The Great Hall was loud and full when he arrived, but Montague, Zabini, Goyle and Rosier were not present. His stomach gave an unpleasant turn; had he missed them?

He scanned the Ravenclaw table upon arrival. Scorpius was at the far end, sitting with Zaina, but keeping his eyes on the Slytherin table. Mei was seated at the end closest to the door, poring over a book, and he crossed over to her, giving her a kiss in greeting. He dropped down in a seat across from her, making sure he was facing the Slytherin table.

'I'm sorry I'm late,' he said to her.

It's alright,' she said without looking at him. 'I'll just have to stay late at the library.'

'So, you're not going to go down the village _at all?'_ he asked.

'No, I can't. Stop trying to make me feel guilty.'

'Mei, I wasn't.'

'Alright. Then let it go.'

He took another glance up the Sytherin table; the four students he was looking for were still not present. Cautious of staring too long, he looked back to Mei. 'What are you studying for?'

'Ancient runes. We have an exam next week.'

'You'll be fine. You're good at ancient runes.'

In spite of herself, she smiled. 'You're trying to convince me to come to the village.'

'No, not at all,' he said quickly. 'But perhaps I could meet you when I get back this evening.'

'Perhaps,' said Mei, turning the page of her book. 'I'm running late now though.'

'Is something the matter?'

She looked up at him. 'What do you mean?'

'Nothing. You just seem… I don't know.'

She hesitated, before giving a sigh and shutting her book. She gestured to the copy of the morning _Prophet_ lying folded beside her plate of toast. 'I was reading an interview with Rowle.'

'Why?'

'Because it's important, Albus,' she retorted. 'He's leading in the polls.'

' _What_? By how much?'

'Point five per cent.'

'Oh… that's not that much.'

'He was behind by one per cent the week he announced he was running. He's gaining support.'

'Yes, but – but that's surely only because people are scared,' said Albus. 'Once the Ministry catches whoever was behind the Christmas Massacre, I'm sure nobody will support Rowle.'

'But what if they don't catch them?'

'Well… I mean, they must. They've brought my uncle back as an investigator. I've heard he was really good at it.'

Mei gave a hesitant nod. 'Yes, he still holds the record for the most case closures of any senior investigator in the Auror Office since the 1960s.'

Albus didn't know if that was true, and so he had no response.

'Shacklebolt really ought to come out and acknowledge that it's a problem though,' said Mei. 'All he's done is tell people to remain calm – that there's no war. But people don't believe it, and that's why they're starting to trust Rowle.'

'You're right.'

Mei rolled her eyes. 'Don't tell me I'm right if you don't agree.'

'No, I agree.'

'Albus,' she sighed, 'I know that Shacklebolt is friends with your family, but you must see that he's mishandling – yes?'

Mei was no longer looking at him, but over his shoulder. He turned in his to see Scorpius standing over them.

'Morning,' said Albus.

'Hi,' said Scorpius. 'You still eating?'

Albus was very aware of Mei's questioning eyes, but he chose to ignore them. 'No, I'm done,' he said to Scorpius.

'Right, well, perhaps we should go down to the village?'

'Er… yeah.' He glanced towards Mei and then back to Scorpius. 'I'll meet you in the entrance hall, maybe?'

Scorpius looked impatient, but nodded none the less. He turned away and strode down the Ravenclaw table.

'What was that about?' Mei asked Albus once Scorpius was out of earshot.

'Er… what do you mean?'

'Why are you going down to the village with Scorpius Malfoy?'

'Er… I'm not sure. Just to hang out.'

'I thought you didn't like him.'

'Why'd you think that?'

'You punched him in the face.'

'Oh… right.'

'When did you two become friends?'

'Er… Since… I don't know, really. Recently, I guess. Look, Mei, I better go. But – but I'll see you tonight, yeah?'

Mei looked unhappy, but nodded. 'Alright, then.'

He kissed her goodbye and hurried out of the Great Hall. Scorpius was waiting for him on the other side of the door, looking sullen.

'Morning,' said Albus.

'We missed them. They're already in the village,' was all Scorpius said.

' _What?_ How did we miss them? Are you sure?'

'I asked Lucien Runcorn,' said Scorpius impatiently.

'You _asked him?_ What if he tells them?'

'God, how stupid do you think I am? I told him I need to talk to Goyle about that transfiguration assignment. We're partnered up. He told me he'd be in the Three Broomsticks.'

'The Three Broomsticks? Isn't that a bit… exposed?'

'Well, that's what he said,' said Scorpius. 'Come on, let's go.'

* * *

It was no longer a wound, but it was not yet a scar, and if he kept tearing it at Quidditch practice it seemed unlikely it would ever get to be one. With the sleeve of his sweater pooled around his upper arm, he inspecting the wide, U-shaped scab that marked where his bone had broken his skin.

'Blimey,' said Mundungus. 'You got lucky.'

' _Lucky?'_ demanded James. 'What's lucky about getting my fucking arm mangled?'

Mundungus shrugged and took a sip of his stout. 'Well, it's good timing, anyways. We're going to have to lie low for a while. There are aurors swarming all over Diagon Alley. You won't miss anything.'

James shook his sleeve back down. 'What, so when will we do it next?'

'I'll keep ya posted.'

'Dung, I need money.'

'Not my fault, Jim.'

James let out a low growl of dismay. He sunk in his chair, swirling the dregs of ale left in his pint glass. 'You know nobody calls me Jim?'

'Really? You look like a Jim. Nothing like a _James_.'

'It was my grandad's name.'

'Well, I know _that_. You're not much like him though.'

This was the first time someone had told him that. 'No?'

'Nah He was a good bloke.'

James gave a sniff of laughter. 'Well, _thanks_.'

Mundungus chuckled and pulled a grubby pipe and battered tin of tobacco from the pocket of his over cloak. 'Didn't mean it like that, Jim.'

'I know what you meant. Give me one of those, at least.'

Mundungus filled his pipe before obligingly sliding the tobacco tin across the table to James. James withdrew a packet of rolling papers from his pocket and took a pinch of Mundungus's old tobacco.

Mundungus dragged on his pipe, blowing the ring into James's face before saying, 'You don't wanna be like him, anyways. Keep your head down. Don't go being a hero.'

'Says the veteran of two wars.' James passed the tobacco tin back to Mundungus and lit his cigarette. He had one long, deep drag before he got to his feet. 'I best be off. Don't want my professors seeing me drinking with hooligans.'

Mundungus bid him goodbye, before signalling to the bartender for another stout. James crossed the tiny pub and stepped out onto the street. He was out of his usual terrain, in a tiny inn on the outskirts of town. Mundungus refused to meet anywhere in which they might encounter Order members, a rule that suited James well. He found Mundungus endearing, but the man's shabbiness and incivility still made him slightly embarrassing to be associated with.

Smoking his cigarette, he started down the street. His dorm-mates would be waiting for him at the Three Broomsticks, and he had the whole afternoon to spend drinking.

He hadn't made it to the end of the street before he came to a halt. Nailed into the lamppost on the corner was a large sheet of parchment emblazoned with the Ministry's stamp and the scarlet letting that belonged to the auror office.

 ** _PROTECT WHAT IS SACRED_**

 ** _The Auror Office is now recruiting_**

The sign went on to detail how one would go about applying. What would be expected of the recruits. When and how to submit an application. Which OWLs and NEWTs were required.

It wasn't lost on James that Finlay had achieved all of the listed OWLs, and by the end of the year would surely have met the NEWTs requirements.

'Fancying to become an auror, James?'

He looked around. Professor Doge was looking up at him, leaning heavily on his cane, a purple coat slung around him.

'God no,' said James. 'Just amused by their terrible slogan.'

'Yes, it's an odd approach to take,' said Doge, adjusting his reading glasses to inspect the sign. ' _Protect what is sacred_. It has the work of Mikhael Rowle written all over it. Shameful, really; putting them up all over town when they know students will be here. I'm surprised your aunt allowed it.'

James shrugged. He didn't care much to agree or disagree. He dragged on his cigarette, before it occurred to him that smoking in front of teachers wasn't advisable, but Doge seemed unbothered.

'Heading back to school already?' asked Doge.

'Nah. Meeting Finlay and Julian and Linus at the Three Broomsticks.'

'Ah, we're heading the same way.'

'Lucky you. You get to walk with me, then.'

Doge chortled. 'Indeed.'

They started down the street and walked in silence for several blocks until Doge said, 'It's not often I see students around this part of town. I myself have a bookshop I'm partial to.'

'Oh, yeah? Any good finds?'

'Not today, I'm afraid. And what brings you here?'

'Oh, you know. Just drinking. Quieter than the Three Broomsticks.'

'Ah, I see,' said Doge. 'That wasn't Mundungus Fletcher I saw you drinking with through the window, was it?'

James was caught off guard, but decided it wasn't worth lying about. 'Yeah.'

'Didn't realise you two were friends.'

"Well, you know. I know him through my parents. He's a bit of fun. More of a laugh than the rest of the Order lot – no offence.'

'None taken,' chortled Doge as they rounded the street on which the Three Broomsticks sat. 'I'm afraid I don't see Mundungus as much as I did. He doesn't speak to many of us anymore. How is he?'

'Oh, excellent. He's running for a seat in the Wizengamot at next year's elections.'

Doge laughed again as they came to a stop at the pub's front door. 'Well, here you are.'

James tossed away his cigarette. 'You coming inside?'

'No, not today.'

'Right. See you back at the castle, then.'

'Enjoy yourself.'

'You too, Professor.' He pushed open the door of the pub, but Doge called him back.

'James?'

'Yes, Professor?'

'I'm sure you've been told this before, but Mundungus isn't exactly the best person for you to be spending your time with.'

'Yeah. I have been told this before.'

'Well, as long as you know.'

'I think I can decide for myself, but thanks, Professor.' And he turned away.

* * *

'Well, this is anti-climactic.'

Albus glanced the table to where Scorpius was lounging in the booth. They had been seated at the table for the better part of an hour, taking curious glances towards the Slytherins at the other end of the Three Broomsticks.

'A little,' said Albus.

'Wish they'd shut up, too.'

Albus wished the same. The Sytherins were playing a loud game of poker on the table, getting increasingly loud as Zabini and Montague continued to buy Goyle and Rosier pints of ale. There was no indication that any of them planned on leaving any time soon.

'Wish _we_ could buy some ale,' drawled Scorpius. 'I'm seventeen in September. It's such an arbitrary rule.'

Albus didn't have much to say to this. He glanced around the pub. It was still early in the day and relatively empty, but he was conscious of not wanting to encounter Rose while he was with Scorpius.

'Am I boring you?' asked Scorpius.

Albus looked back at him quickly 'No.'

'Look, I didn't know they'd just be sitting here. They did say they were meeting August. Don't blame me.'

'I wasn't blaming you,' said Albus quickly. 'I just… I don't want to see Rose. She thinks we're being idiots following them.'

'Who cares what Rose thinks?'

'I know but I don't want to fight with her.'

Scorpius gave a disparaging sigh, slumping back in his seat. 'Why do you spend so much time with her, anyway?'

'Er… well, we're friends.'

'Why though? I've never met two people less suited to be friends. She's amazingly insulting and you…' Scorpius stopped himself.

'I'm what?' said Albus.

'I don't know. Not very… bold.'

'I punched you in the face, remember?'

Scorpius laughed. 'Yeah, true.'

'Look, I know Rose can be kind of difficult sometimes, but…' He stopped. He had been about to say "but she doesn't mean to", but he didn't think that was being truthful. Instead he settled upon, 'But she can be really nice when she wants to be.'

Scorpius gave a dismissive laugh. 'I've never seen it.'

'Well, she can be,' Albus assured him. 'You know, she… she stands up for her friends. If you got to know her then I'm sure you could get along.'

'Why would I want to do that?'

'It's only… it would be good to have her on our side, you know? If we want to get some evidence on the Slytherins. She's smart, you know?'

'She's not _that_ smart.'

'Alright, well… okay. Just like… just don't take the things she says personally.'

'I don't take it _personally._ I couldn't care less what she has to say about me.'

'Right, well… good.' Albus looked back across the pub to the table at which the Slytherins were seated, only to find that they were no longer seated there. 'Fuck.'

'What?' said Scorpius, sitting up, and he spun in his seat to look back at the Slytherin table. 'Oh, damn it. Come on.'

They got to their feet, hurried out of the pub, and scanned the street. In the distance, traipsing along the cobbled street, were the Slytherins they were after: Caliber Montague, Laertus Zabini, Edmund Goyle and Clement Rosier. Scorpius and Albus looked at each other before starting down the street.

Following them was made more difficult from the villagers coming and out of shops and the ice over the cobbled stones and the bitter wind chilling their faces, but they did not relent. The Slytherins continued, seemingly unbothered, through the winding village streets until the roads widened and the houses become more scarce. They were nearing the edge of the village, close to the saplings that grew at the edge of the forbidden forest.

'They're leaving the village,' Scorpius warned. 'What do we do if they apparate away somewhere?'

'But the fifth years won't know how to apparate, will they?' said Albus.

'They could do side-along, I suppose.'

'Well, let's just wait and see,' Albus advised. 'Maybe we should put the cloak on now. If they look back and see us coming along this way they'll know we're following them.'

Scorpius nodded, and they ducked under the cover of an old pine tree. Albus opened his satchel and pulled out the cloak. Albus threw the silky material over them, before they started back along the street, the Slytherins a few hundred feet ahead.

'This is your dad's cloak, right?' said Scorpius as they walked.

'Well, it was. James has claimed ownership.'

'So how old's the cloak, then?'

'Er… I don't know. It was my grandfather's, I think.'

Scorpius looked alarm. 'Your grandfather's? You do realise they lose their effectiveness after a few years, don't you?'

'It works fine, honestly,' Albus insisted. 'I've seen James use it.'

Scorpius looked unconvinced. 'Well, if they notice us and kill us I'm holding you accountable.'

'Fine by me.'

They continued along the street until the cobblestones fell away into a dirt road full of puddles of melted ice. They had walked nearly a mile through frozen saplings before they met a crossroads where the Sytherins diverged.

'They're going towards the Shrieking Shack,' said Scorpius.

Albus looked at him, alarmed. 'Are you sure?'

'That's the only place that road leads.'

Albus nodded. 'Alright. We should let them go in first so they don't hear us following them.'

Scorpius looked at him, horrified. 'You want to go in there?'

'Well… well, we have to, don't we?'

'You want to get killed? There are _ghouls_ in there.'

Albus silently agreed with him, but he wasn't going to admit this. 'That's just old legends.'

'How come nobody ever goes in there then?'

'Look,' said Albus bracingly, 'we said we'd do this, didn't we? We want to find out who August is. It was _your idea_ , right?'

Scorpius looked mutinous, but he gave a slow nod. 'Right, but I didn't know August was in the Shrieking Shack.'

'Well, look: we're going to let the Slytherins go in first, right? So they'll get murdered before we do, and then the problem will be solved.'

Scorpius laughed, though reluctantly. 'Alright.'

'Right.'

'I hope this bloody cloak works.'

They continued down the pathway after the Slytherins. They crossed another hundred feet before, through the saplings, the hill began to descend and on the next slope the Shrieking Shack sat. It was a mass of rotted wood only barely resembling a house, its walls standing lopsidedly as if a heavy gust of wind would be enough to blow it over. Albus doubted it would be safe to enter, regardless of what was haunting it.

Ahead in the distance, the Slytherins had reached the end of the road. Ignoring the warning signs plastered in front of them, they climbed the old fence and began trudging through the snow-covered field of snow that separated them from the shrieking shack.

'Oh, no,' muttered Albus, and Scorpius looked at him. 'The snow.'

'The snow?'

'Out footprints. We've been on a road this whole way, but our footprints will show in the snow.'

'Fuck,' said Scorpius. 'I guess we best turn back.'

But such a thought seemed unacceptable to Albus. He shook his head. 'We'll wait until they're all inside and _then_ we'll go.'

Albus knew from the look on his face that Scorpius wanted to protest, but he held his tongue. They waited by the fence, watching as Laertus Zabini aimed his wand at the door of the Shrieking Shack. He blasted it off its hinges and it fell back into the shack. Laughing, the Slytherins stepped inside. Zabini waited until the others were all inside before, casting a probing glance along the horizon to spot any onlookers, he too disappeared into the darkness.

'Alright,' said Albus. 'Ready?'

Scorpius grimaced, but nodded all the same. They climbed over the fence while keeping both of them concealed by the invisibility cloak was, and there was a lot of swearing and stumbling before they both managed it. When they reached the doorway of the shack they looked at each other.

'We better not light our wands,' said Scorpius.

'Well, yeah, I mean – obviously.'

They eased through the doorway, testing the dusty floorboards to gauge if they would creak under their weight. The corridor in which they found themselves was almost blackened, spare for the weak light filtering in through the doorway, but they didn't have the option of lighting their wands. Instead they followed the shoe prints in the dust up the decaying staircase to the shack's second floor.

They made it to the second storey landing, finding themselves at a rotting door that had been shut. The muffled voices of the Slytherins could be heard. From under the cloak Scorpius and Albus looked at each other, before they crept forward and pressed their ears to the door.

'I reckon we can win the cup this year easy,' said Laertus Zabini from behind the door. 'We beat Hufflepuff easy in November, and Ravenclaw lost most of their good players after last year.'

'Not with you as captain, surely,' said Montague.

There was laughter from around the room. Beside him, Albus felt Scorpius give a sigh of frustration. Albus knew they were thinking the same thing: had they followed the Slytherins into the Shrieking Shack just to hear them talking about Quidditch?

'I reckon we need better beaters,' proclaimed Edmund Goyle. 'We had way too many injuries in the last match.'

'Yeah, the Hufflepuff beaters are alright, aren't they?' agreed Clement Rosier.

Caliber Montague began to refute this, but he stopped at the sound of a _pop_ announcing someone had arrived by apparition into the room. There was a beat of silence before Montague said, 'Alright, August?'

'Alright, Caliber?' replied the man named August.

Albus felt his heart pound against his chest and he exchanged glances with Scorpius.

'Sorry to keep you lot waiting,' came the voice of August carelessly. 'The Ministry's got aurors out everywhere. It's making things difficult.'

'Nah, don't say sorry, mate,' said Zabini, 'We know you're busy.'

'Still, I felt I should keep you in the loop,' August told him. 'We know you're just as keen as we are.'

'So what is that you need us to do?' asked Clement Rosier.

'Well, nothing's set in stone yet,' said August. 'At the moment, we're just hoping to find people we can trust at Hogwarts, but we're hoping to get you trained and active within the next few months.'

'So, then we'd be part of it?' asked Goyle eagerly. 'We could help fight? Like what you did to the Ministry?'

There was silence within the room, but Albus could sense the anticipation.

'The next time we plan an attack,' said August evenly, 'you'll know about it.'

Albus leant towards Scorpius and whispered, 'We need to see his face.'

Scorpius nodded without looking around. Under the invisibility cloak, Albus reached towards the doorknob to try to ease it open, but Scorpius caught his wrist.

'The key hole,' he muttered.

Albus looked toward it. From the keyhole, the light of the Slytherins wands was leaking through. Albus watched Scorpius stoop down, inclining his head towards the keyhole, and he took a step toward it.

As soon as Scorpius put his foot down, the floorboard gave a loud, angry groan. Albus's stomach turned. The voices from within the room died away. Scorpius groaned softly.

For a brief instant there was silence, save for the pounding of Albus's heart. Somewhere within him he knew he needed to move, but the more immediate thought was to stay as still as possible in case the floorboards groaned again with their movement.

And then the man named August spoke again from the other side of the door. The light, welcoming tone he had held when he greeted the Slytherins was gone, to be replaced a venomous growl. 'What was that?'

'There's someone outside the door,' said Zabini.

'Did anyone follow you?' August demanded of them.

'No, of course not,' said Montague. 'We were careful.'

'You,' said August. 'Go check.'

Footsteps began from within the room. Before he knew he was doing it, Albus reached for Scorpius's arm. Scorpius looked round at him, as if startled to find him there. Albus kept eye contact with him, waiting as the footsteps drew nearer, until he heard the click of the door as it was opened, and at the same time Albus dragged Scorpius back.

Edmund Goyle stood in the doorway, glancing up and down the perceptibly empty corridor. Albus pushed himself and Scorpius against the opposite wall, watching as Goyle's eyes passed over the place they were standing, seeing nothing. Albus tried to peer around him into the room in the hopes of catching August's face, but he was scared to move too much for fear of making more noise.

'There's no one out here,' Goyle called back into the room.

'No one?' came August's voice.

But Goyle didn't reply. Albus saw him begin to frown. He was not looking at the space against the wall they were standing, but rather at the floor. Albus looked towards the patch he was staring at, but there was nothing to be seen. He looked back up at Goyle to see (and his heart plummeted) that Goyle's eyes were travelling towards them. Their scrambling feet had cleared a path in the dust, ending where they were standing against the wall.

Albus saw Goyle reach for his wand, bringing it forward in one swift motion to point it where they were standing, and in the same moment Albus whipped out his own wand and bellowed, ' _Stupefy!'_

Goyle fell backwards. He hit the floorboards at the same time as they heard the other Slytherins scrambling to their feet in the room. Albus grabbed Scorpius's arm once more, forcing him to move, and together they bolted towards the stairs.

' _Who was that? Where are they?'_ Montague growled from behind them.

'Careful, don't step on him! Someone revive him!' urged Rosier.

'Shut up, he's just stunned,' growled August. 'Where'd they go?'

But they were already down the stairs and they burst through the broken door out into the sunlight.

* * *

 **Song credit: _Teenage Icon_ by The Vaccines.**

 **A/N: This chapter is very much an admin-chapter, but admin is necessary. Pity I'm not clever enough to make it more interesting.**

 **If you managed to get to the end of it please let me know you thoughts in a review! xx**


	15. Pattern

_18/11/2018_

* * *

 ** _Pattern  
_** _And never in my wildest dreams  
_ _Has it occurred to me to try to go to sleep  
_ _Wonder whether I'll grow curious  
_ _When old doctor dusk comes to call for me  
_ _Midnight I'm like her specialty  
_ _She'll outmuscle me certainly in the end  
_ _Midnight has got the hots for me  
_ _And I'm about to be born again_

* * *

'So,' said Professor Sinistra slowly, 'you said it was Clement Rosier and Edmund Goyle.'

'And Caliber Montague and Laertus Zabini,' added Scorpius. Albus nodded vigorously.

With one hand the head mistress tapped her nails against her desk and in the other she scribbled out the name onto the parchment before her. 'And then this other person they were with – they weren't a student?'

'No, the Slytherins had gone there to meet him,' said Scorpius.

'Could you give us a description of him?'

'We couldn't see him. They had the door closed,' said Albus. 'But he definitely was talking about the Christmas Day Massacre, and he _definitely_ said they were planning more attacks.

'And his name is August?'

'Yes.'

'No surname mentioned?'

'No.'

'So, you heard his voice clearly?'

'Yes.'

'Do you think, having heard his voice, you could guess his age?'

'Pretty young, I guess,' Albus told her. 'Like – in his twenties maybe?'

'And could you describe his voice? Anything that would stand out about it?'

'He sounded like he was from London, I think,' said Albus. 'And his voice was like – like _friendly_ almost.'

'Yeah, kind of like - like it was familiar or something,' said Scorpius.

The head mistress glanced up. 'Familiar because he was friendly, or familiar because you think you might recognise it?'

'I don't know. Friendly, I suppose, but I'd recognise it if I heard it again,' Scorpius assured her. 'If the Ministry can get a list of wizards called August, and bring them in, and have them like – like speak or something-'

'That's definitely a possibility,' said Professor Sinistra, but Albus knew from the way she said it that she thought it unlikely. 'It will be up to the Auror Office as to how they approach the situation. That's why I need to give them as much information as I can so they can decide if this could be useful.'

' _Useful?_ How could it not be useful?' said Scorpius hotly. ' _He did it_. He killed the aurors – he and the rest of the Reclamation Army. And now the Slytherins are going to join up too-'

'I understand, Mr Malfoy,' said Professor Sinistra sharply, calling Scorpius into silence. 'And I do appreciate you telling myself and Professor Longbottom what you heard. Is there anything else you think might be of use to the aurors?'

Albus seemed at a loss. The exhilaration they had felt as they had run back to the school was depleting. He had half-expected Neville to summon the aurors as soon as he and Scorpius came to his office. Instead he had merely asked them to sit, explain what they had heard, and then after some deliberation led them upstairs to the head mistress's office.

'You could get the Slytherins to tell you his last name,' he insisted. 'Like, give the veritaserum…'

At this, Professor Sinistra's careful calmness seemed to falter. She frowned at him. 'Thank you, Mr Potter, but I'm not in the habit of administering veritaserum to students. I'm sure you know it's use is limited to the Auror Office and the Wizengamot. And if that's all the information you have for me then I'd say you should both head down to the Great Hall. You're missing supper.'

Scorpius and Albus looked at each other again, disbelieving, before they turned back to the head mistress.

'But you will _try_ to get the Slytherins to tell you more, right?' said Albus. 'So, you can include it in the letter to the Auror Office?'

Professor Sinistra hesitated, setting down her quill, before she said evenly, 'The four students you believe you saw weren't in Hogsmeade today.'

' _What?_ ' spat Scorpius.

'They were!' protested Albus. 'We saw them – of course it was them! Goyle and Rosier and Montague and Zabini…'

'Yes, I understand, Mr Potter,' said the head mistress. 'But the four of them weren't permitted to go to the village for this month. The head girl found them out after curfew earlier this week. Mrs MacDougal did not let them leave the school gates.'

'But they were _there,_ ' urged Scorpius. 'We _saw_ them. We wouldn't lie about this.'

Professor Sinistra raised her hand, signalling for calm. 'Believe me, Mr Malfoy, I'm not accusing either of you of lying. Perhaps you mistook some other students for them. From what you told me you were following them from quite a distance, is that right?'

'Yes, but we know what they look like!' said Albus.

'And then you heard their voices through the door. It's possible their voices might have been distorted, is that right?'

'Yes _–_ I mean _no_ , I mean…' Albus stopped, stifling a groan. 'But we did see them! Edmund Goyle was right in front of us.'

Professor Sinistra remained placid as she said, 'Mrs MacDougal did not permit them to leave-'

Unable to stop himself, Albus cut across her. 'But there are other ways out of the castle. Like… passageways and stuff.'

At this, the head mistress raised her eyebrows. 'Do you know of any?'

From the corner of his eye, Albus saw Scorpius shoot him a warning look, but Albus continued. 'There's… there's one in the west wing. Behind that statue of the hump-backed witch on the third floor. It comes up in the Forbidden Forest. I know the Slytherins know about it.'

Professor Sinistra seemed to hesitate, before saying slowly, 'Well, perhaps I can ask their head of house to speak to them. But both of you, I must forbid you to speak of this with anyone else. What you're accusing the four students of is very serious, and I do not want you spreading unfounded rumours.'

'Unfounded?' said Scorpius incredulously. 'But, Professor…'

'Enough now, Mr Malfoy,' said Professor Sinistra firmly. 'I've told you I appreciate what you've told me and I will pass the information onto the Auror Office. I'm afraid that's all the time I can afford to give you.'

Albus and Scorpius sat still for several disbelieving seconds. Professor Sinistra did not spare them another glance, but rather continued scribbling on the parchment in front of her. Albus and Scorpius looked at each other and, both knowing they had exhausted all their protests, got to their feet.

As they reached the door, the head mistress called to them, 'And boys?'

They looked back at her hopefully.

'I appreciate your interest in helping the aurors, but that doesn't give you permission to enter the Shrieking Shack. If a situation like this occurs in the future I want you to tell a teacher rather than take it upon yourselves to investigate, understand?'

'Yes, Professor,' said Albus.

'And you, Mr Malfoy?'

'Yes, Professor,' grumbled Malfoy.

'Thank you. And I'll be taking twenty points each from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for being out of bounds. Off you go.'

Scorpius turned away, glaring, and wrenched open the door of the head mistress's office, marching outside, before he realised Albus was not with him. He looked back into the room. 'Come on, let's go.'

'Will you be taking eighty points from Slytherin?' asked Albus.

'I'm sorry, Mr Potter?'

'They were out of bounds too, and there were four of them, so don't they get eighty points taken?'

Professor Sinistra seemed to hesitate, before she said very evenly, 'Perhaps I would if they were out of bounds, but that remains to be seen, and it's not of any concern of yours, Mr Potter. Please go.'

Albus stayed where he was, struggling to think of a response before Scorpius put his hand on his shoulder.

'Just forget it,' Scorpius muttered furiously, and Albus allowed himself to be steered out of the head mistress's office.

Scorpius slammed the door shut and started down the stairs, Albus at his heels. They had reached the bottom of the flight of stairs before Scorpius spoke again, 'This is total bullshit.'

'I know,' said Albus.

'I mean for fuck's sake, what else does she need to know?'

'I agree.'

'We _saw_ them. We _know_ it was them. And I know I recognised August's voice. I _know_ it.'

'You really think so?'

'Yes,' said Scorpius harshly. 'I just – I just can't remember where.'

'Do you think… maybe… you know, because of your dad…'

' _No_ ,' snarled Scorpius. 'From somewhere else.'

'Like, someone famous?'

'No, like… I don't know. I just know him.'

'Well, I guess we need to prove it some other way,' said Albus slowly as they reached the staircase. 'Are you coming down to dinner?'

'I'm not hungry,' grumbled Scorpius. 'I'm going back to Ravenclaw tower. I want to capitalise on the idiots I share a dorm with being out.'

Albus laughed, before he gave a low _, 'Oh_.'

'What?' said Scorpius.

'I was supposed to meet Mei in the library this afternoon.'

'Oh, dear.'

'Yeah. Very oh dear.'

'Well, good luck,' said Scorpius. 'I'll see you at breakfast, I guess.'

'Yeah, see you.'

And Scorpius started up the stairs as Albus started downwards.

* * *

Monday morning dawned like a hangover that wouldn't go away. Her dread woke her early, and she showered and dressed before her parents or Victoire woke. She didn't want to see them; didn't want to have to stomach their sympathy.

It had been nearly three weeks since the attack, and only now had the Ministry deemed it safe for the general staff to re-enter. She knew her superiors had gone back as soon as the rubble had been cleared away, but she wasn't important enough to have her presence required.

When she arrived at the atrium, she stepped out of the fireplace and took a cautious look around. It looked pristine; the ceiling and golden trimmings had been restored, immaculate and unchanging. She couldn't decide if that made it better or worse; perhaps it would have been less unsettling if a trace of the destruction was still visible.

There was one acute difference, however; the security at the entry to the Ministry had increased tenfold. The usual two aurors checking people's wands had been joined by ten others. She waited in line for nearly fifteen minutes before she made it to the front of the queue., and another ten minutes for her security clearance to be granted.

Her heart was pounding when she made it to the escalator, and she was hyperventilating by the time she made it to her floor. She wondered what it would be like in her office; she wondered if people would be crying; she wondered if there would be flowers.

For perhaps the first time in more than three weeks, she was not wondering about Teddy Lupin, but that changed when the elevator doors opened and she found him before her.

He looked up from the sheet of parchment he had been reading, saw who it was, and said slowly, 'Oh.'

She stood frozen in her spot long enough that the elevator doors began to shut. She threw an arm forward to hold them open, and at the same time as Teddy did so, and they narrowly avoided brushing hands as she jumped out into the corridor.

She tried to find somewhere else to look, but it was impossible to remove him from her line of sight. It was the first time she had seen him since the memorial; she had been determined to avoid him, and so when she heard his voice at Shell Cottage she would lock herself in her bedroom or escape from the house.

Looking at him now, she realised there was something unfamiliar about him. He had always looked thin, but now he looked properly unhealthy. His hair was still the same shade of brown it had been at the memorial, and he wasn't smiling, something unusual for him.

'Dom,' he said in an uneven voice, 'hullo.'

'Hi,' she squeaked back.

'I didn't know you'd be here,' he said, as if trying to apologise for crossing paths with her. 'I thought the office staff weren't coming back until next week.'

'No, we're back today.'

'Oh, right…' He seemed unsure what to do with his hands, fiddling with the sheet of parchment he was holding, before he looked down at it, and in inspiration held it aloft for her to look at it. 'Have you seen this?'

'Um, no, I don't think so… What is it?'

'Well, they're been handed out in our department. I came to ask Harry about it before I signed it, but he's in a meeting,' said Teddy. 'I don't really get it… lots of big words, you see. Here, look.'

He offered it to her and she took it, unfurling the parchment. It was very long, and the font was very small, and she had to read it several times before she understood what it was asking for. She looked up at Teddy. 'It's a consent form. They're asking you to absolve the Ministry of responsibility if you get killed.'

Teddy gave a slow nod. 'Yeah, that's what it seemed like to me.'

She rolled the parchment back up and passed it to him. 'Do you want to borrow a quill?'

Teddy seemed to consider this, before he said slowly, 'You're not going to sign yours, are you?'

She hadn't questioned that she would until Teddy had. 'Well, I… I can't quit I've tried applying for other jobs, but I haven't found any others. I don't know what I'd do for money if I stopped working here.'

'Neither do I,' said Teddy. 'But I'm not sure I want to be part of the Ministry anymore. Not while people like Rowle work here.'

' _Teddy,_ ' she hissed, glancing up and down the corridor. 'Be careful. Some people here really like him.'

'I know. That's the problem, isn't it?'

Dominique didn't have a response for this. They stood staring at each other, and all at once she was back in the Burrow at Christmas, with his dark eyes hovering over her, his lips inches from his. It made her feel awful and sick and shameful, and she knew he felt it too.

'I need to get into the office,' she murmured.

'Right,' he said. 'I suppose I should head back downstairs. You've got a quill, have you?'

'You're going to sign it?'

'I suppose I don't have much of a choice. Vicky wants a big wedding.'

And all at once, Dominique knew that was going to be it. That as all it would ever be. Teddy was going to allow it to fall to the wayside, put it onto the list of things that were unseemly to think of, and they would forget. She decided she would follow his lead. She reached into her bag and retrieved a quill.

'Thanks.' He stepped towards the wall and pressed the parchment up against it.

She watched him scribble on the dotted line. She liked the way he signed his name, big and loopy and somewhat askew from the uneven surface he was writing on. _Edward Remus Lupin_.

When he was finished he turned back to her, handing her the quill, and smiled in thanks. 'I'll be round for dinner tomorrow night,' he told her. 'Will you be there?'

'I think so.'

'Great. See you then, Dom.'

'Yes, bye, Teddy.'

He raised a hand in farewell and stepped into the elevator, and she turned away into her office.

* * *

'I just don't know why you're getting involved.'

'I'm not getting involved.'

'But you are, Albus. You had twenty points taken from Gryffindor, and you could have gotten a lot worse for being out of bounds.'

He rolled over in her four-poster to run a hand along her shoulder. 'I'm really sorry I didn't tell you where I was going.'

Mei sighed, sitting up in bed to tie her long hair into a ponytail. 'I'm not _mad_ , Albus. I just don't want you getting distracted. Not when your OWLs are coming up.'

He grinned up at her. 'I think you care a lot more about my OWLs than I do.'

Mei rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. 'That's silly.'

He reached for her hand. 'I know you think so.'

'I do.'

'But don't you think it's important to stop Rowle?'

'I just won't know what you think you can do. Why can't you just leave it to the aurors?'

'Well, we _tried_. But Professor Sinistra won't ask the Slytherins about it.'

'You can't have honestly expected her to. Why would the people who attacked the Ministry trust school kids with that sort of information?'

Albus tried to think of an explanation, but fell short. He gave her a shrug. 'I know it sounds stupid, and I'm sorry, but I just… I just want to find out what's going on.'

Mei hesitated, before giving a low sigh. She lay back down beside him, leaning into him, and he looped his arm around her. 'Just promise me you're not going to do anything stupid.'

'I won't.'

'Get yourself hurt, I mean.'

'Okay.'

' _Or_ fail your hours.'

He laughed, and inclined to kiss her. 'I promise.'

* * *

'Don't go.'

'I have to. Lucy Weasley's a nutcase.'

'Tell her you're ill.'

'She won't believe that.'

Zaina pouted. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her, wanting very much not to leave her.

'If you wait up I'll come past your dorm on my way back in,' he said.

She gave a breathy sigh. 'I'll just be exhausted tomorrow.'

He turned away and snatched up his trousers from the floor. 'Well, I won't then.'

'Oh, sweetie, don't sulk.'

'I'm not sulking.'

He pulled on his trousers before sitting back down on the bed to tie up the laces of his school shoes. He felt Zaina shift on the bed, moving towards him, before she laced her long, slender arms around his shoulders, pressing her lips against his neck. He leant into her, raising a hand over his shoulder to touch her cheek.

'I missed you,' she said.

'I missed you too.'

'Liar.'

'It's true. I did.'

'Then why are you abandoning me?'

He laughed and shifted to face her, taking hold of her and pushing her back onto the bed. 'I'm not _abandoning_ you. Prefect duty must come first.'

With her pinned beneath him, he kissed her chest and she let out a shrill giggle. He still had fifteen minutes before he had to be at the prefect's office – surely he had time. He moved his lips to hers and she responded keenly, lacing her fingers through his hair, and with the other hand sliding town his chest…

They both heard the door of his dormitory click open. They jumped away from each other, Zaina grabbing the sheets of his bed to pull them over her. He lunged towards the door in an attempt to shut it, but before he could reach is Zaina called sharply, ' _We're in here!'_

Whoever it was on the other side of the door stopped immediately, pulling the door closed again. There was a second's delay before Connor Davies said through the door, 'Sorry, Zaina!'

Zaina looked at Scorpius, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling. 'Come back in ten minutes, Connor,' she called to him.

Connor did as he was instructed. Scorpius listened to his footsteps retreat away back down the stairs to the common room. He found himself suddenly irritated: none of his dorm-mates would ever heed any request from him not to be interrupted, but there was something in the way Zaina spoke to people that made it impossible not to obey.

'I don't know why you don't warn him that I'm in here,' sighed Zaina.

He suddenly wasn't interested in delaying his departure. He turned to his trunk and pulled a shirt out from it.

'Oh, no. You're annoyed, aren't you?' said Zaina.

He shook his head as he buttoned his shirt. 'What would I have to be annoyed about?'

'Oh, nothing, but you always find something, love.'

 _Don't do it,_ he said to himself. _Be quiet. Be sensible._

'I'm not annoyed,' he replied. 'I just find it funny.'

Zaina gave a tired sigh. 'Find what funny?'

'That if I were to tell Connor not to come in he'd completely ignore me, but when you do it he heeds your every command.'

'Well, Connor adores me.'

'I know that.'

'Aw, are you jealous?'

 _Don't do it,_ he said to himself once more, but he did it.

'Should I be?' he asked.

Zaina gave him a knowing smile. 'Don't pick a fight, Scorp.'

'Yeah, good. Ignore the question.'

Sighing, Zaina swung her long legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. She had a way of moving that was somehow lyrical, fluid and assured, and he watched her as she pulled on her clothes.

'You're a very difficult person, you know?' she told him.

'Thanks.'

She strode towards the door, saying as she did, 'Enjoy your evening with Weasley.'

She pulled the door shut after her, and he slumped back on his bed. It had been going so well, but he had pushed too far, as he always did with Zaina. When they had first gotten together he had been so careful, so chivalrous, and she had been charming and doting, and then they had revealed themselves to each other.

And yet he had an admiration for her that kept him drawn in. He liked her confidence; he liked her grace; he liked the fact that he was the type of person she liked.

He dwelled on this as he left his dormitory, and was still thinking of Zaina and the stupid things he had said as he descended the stairs of Ravenclaw tower. He had, at the beginning, been so careful with what he would allow himself to say to her, but the closer he became to her the less he censored himself.

Rose Weasley was waiting for him, sitting on a window sill at the top of the marble staircase. Her lanky legs were intertwined and her bony arms were folded. She was wearing her usual scowl, and she refused to meet his eye until he was standing right before her. The sight of her did nothing to improve his mood.

'Evening,' he said.

Very curtly, she said, 'You're late.'

'Hah. Funny.'

'What's funny?'

'Because I'm not late, but that's what I said to you last week.'

'You _are_ late. It's a quarter past ten.'

'Oh, let's not start,' he grumbled. In that moment he saw fully, for perhaps the first time, the reality of his predicament; three hours of incessant bickering each week for the next five months. The prospect was exhausting. 'How about we make a rule?'

'What do you mean?'

'You know… we're not allowed to speak to each other unless what we have to say relates directly to prefect duty?'

She gave a humourless laugh. 'That's infantile.'

'Infantile seems necessary when dealing with you.'

She made to protest, but then seemed to realise that would validate his suggestion. After a few seconds' thought she said, 'Fine.'

'Shall we get this over with, then?'

In answer, she launched herself off of the window sill and started down the corridor ahead of him, and he followed after her, hands in his pockets.

They made it to the third floor without cause to speak to each other. He was beginning to feel rather proud of his rule when, as they neared the transfiguration room, he heard the sound of laughter from the empty classroom.

He looked towards Rose and asked, 'Shall I go or you?'

'Go where?'

'To tell them to go to bed.'

She raised her eyebrows. 'Do you honestly care if someone's out of bed?'

'Last time we ignored students out of bed your mental cousin found them, and I don't want her to have another go at us.'

Rose still looked unconvinced, and so he said to her, 'Do you want your Hogsmeade privileges revoked?'

'Fine,' she relented. 'You do it then.'

He opened the door and the giggling inside stopped immediately. The two first-years drawing on the chalkboard looked terrified by the sight of them.

'Evening,' he said to the pair, and he heard Rose give an impatient sigh. 'You two should probably be in your dorms.'

The pair of Hufflepuff girls they found in the transfiguration room were the first of several students they found out after curfew. He and Rose took in turns telling them to go to bed, and other than that they were silent. It was a good rule, he thought to himself, and he also liked that he briefly proved himself more reasonable than Weasley.

The end of their patrol was blissfully close when, on the sixth floor, they heard hushed voices from the History of Magic classroom. Without a word to Rose, he approached the classroom and pulled open the door, and the group of six third-year Slytherins within looked around at him. They were in the midst of a game of exploding snap, and at the sight of the two prefects seemed unsure of how they should behave.

'Evening,' Scorpius said to them. Rose rolled her eyes (she had been doing this, or something or this nature, every time he greeted students in such a manner), but he continued unbothered. 'Not to break up the party, but you lot should be in bed.'

'Why though?' grumbled one of the boys in the group. Scorpius recognised him as the Slytherin seeker. 'It's only a game.'

'Because we said so,' said Rose coolly. 'And we can tell youf head of house if you don't. Do you want detentions?'

The Slytherins exchanged glances with each other, before they resolved to gather up their playing cards and get to their feet. Rose and Scorpius stood aside as they trudged out of the room, glaring at the prefects.

As the Slytherin seeker passed them, he gave Rose a scouring glance up and down and said in a low voice, 'Your mudblood mum's gonna get what's coming to her.'

'Hey, mate,' said Scorpius sharply, 'you know we can give you detention if you want us to.'

'Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy,' sighed Rose, and she turned away from him and started back up along the corridor.

Scorpius hesitated, watching the Slytherins slouching off in the other direction towards the marble staircase. They were talking amongst themselves, looking back at himself and Rose and laughing, and he felt himself surge with anger. He turned away and hurried down the passageway to catch up with Rose.

'Hey, Weasley, wait…'

'Is this prefect related?' she asked.

'How do you not have a problem with that?' he demanded.

'This isn't prefect related.'

'It doesn't bother you that that kid just said… that he called your mother…'

When he didn't say it she glanced back at him. 'A _mudblood?_ Don't act like you've never used that word.'

He gaped at her. 'I've _never_ – I would _never_ –'

'Oh, spare me.'

'Where have you gotten this idea that I have some kind of prejudice?'

'You've made it fairly clear.'

' _How?_ What have I ever done?'

'It's what you don't do.'

'What does that mean?'

'Meaning that if you really cared about blood equality you would do something about it.'

'Well, I'm trying, aren't I? Albus and I _tried_ to find out who August is. Which is more than I can say for you.'

'If you care so much then why are you still going out with Zaina Faheem?'

He frowned at her. Hearing her say Zaina's name annoyed him. 'What does Zaina have to do with anything?'

'She doesn't seem to think too highly about blood equality,' said Rose matter-of-factly.

He paused, glaring at her, before he realised what she was talking about. 'Oh, what, because of what she said in History of Magic last term? That was one time.'

'She made it clear what she thinks, and you obviously don't have a problem with it or you wouldn't be going out with her.'

'In case you weren't listening, Weasley, I was on Chandra's side,' said Scorpius coolly. 'And Zaina doesn't have any problems with Muggles. She's just been brought up in an old-fashioned household.

'Oh, yes, of course. _Old-fashioned_. It's lovely to have such a flattering word for bigoted.'

'Look, Weasley, it's alright. I get it.'

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. 'Get what?'

'Most girls don't like Zaina.'

' _Excuse me?_ '

'Girls don't like her because she's pretty and she likes herself. That doesn't make her a bad person.'

Rose seemed to swell with anger. 'I don't care how _pretty she is._ What makes her a bad person is her total complacency with how Purebloods view Muggle-borns.'

'And how are you any different?' he demanded. 'You can have a go at Zaina all you like, but you're not exactly doing anything to protest Rowle. You wouldn't even help Albus and I find out what the Slytherins were doing.'

'Albus and _me_ ,' she corrected, and he groaned impatiently, but she continued. 'And it worked out very well for the two of you, didn't it? You two following them into the Shrieking Shack did nothing but lose house points.'

'At least we're _trying_. How do you expect to make a difference if you won't even… Okay.' He stopped himself. 'We're going around in circles. Let's re-invoke the rule, shall we?'

'You broke it. Not me.'

'Well, you – _forget it_. Keep walking.'

She spun on her heel, her bushy, ginger hair bouncing on her shoulders. She walked with her arms folded, sulking. He found himself getting a headache as he tried to follow her logic.

'I just don't get you,' he said to her, and she sighed, but he persisted. 'How can you be so disinterested when you've been raised by parents like yours?'

'By that logic you should be a Death Eater.'

'Well, according to you I already am,' he said. 'Doesn't your ambivalence bother your mum and dad?'

'My parents would prefer it if I never picked up a newspaper,' she retorted.

He wasn't entirely sure what she meant by this, and so he kept talking. 'You act very hard done by, don't you? You live a hard life with your mother being the head of the DMLE and your father being a famous auror.'

'And I'm sure your days are a struggle. Having your house-elves answer your beckoned call. Living in a manor house built with money your family stole from Muggles.'

He felt himself flush with anger – anger that came from knowing that she was right. 'You think it's fun having journalists waiting at my gate hoping to catch my father dragging dead bodies into the cellar?'

'And it's not a pain having journalists at my gate hounding my mother?'

'Your mother has journalists there because people love her. My father has journalists after him because everyone hates him.'

'Try having strangers take photos of you your whole life.'

'Strangers take my pictures too,' he said, for lack of a better retort.

'Not as much as they take mine.'

'Well, you don't have to brag about it.'

'I'm not _bragging about it,_ Malfoy,' she spat at him. 'It's awful.'

'You can't find it flattering?'

Even in the dim light of the torches, he could see the knot appear before her eyebrows as she glared at him. 'Are you serious?'

'What?'

'Flattering…' she hissed in disbelief. 'God, you're pathetic.'

She turned away from him, and he followed her.

'Okay, fine, Weasley. That was a stupid thing to say.'

'Yes, and that's a first for you.'

'I was saying sorry, but if you'd want me to apologise-'

'You weren't apologising, were you? You were acknowledging your own stupidity.'

'I misspoke,' he told her. 'Your life is infinitely more difficult than mine. I should never, ever have tried to speculate on the horrors that you have to endure in your home life. My heart bleeds for you. You're an inspiration to all.'

She put her hands on her hips. 'Why do you do that?'

'Do what, Weasley?'

'Speak as if you're ten years older than everyone around you.'

'I speak to you the way you speak to me,' he snapped back.

'You speak to _everyone_ like that. Even Albus, and you two are apparently best friends now-'

'Oh, is that what's bothering you? Albus has found someone else to be friends with other than you? Are you jealous?'

Rose gave a harsh laugh. 'If Albus wants to be friends with someone as infuriating as you he can go ahead and do it.'

'Yes, he must have a type, having been friends with you for so long.' He glanced at his watch and before she could say anything he continued. 'Look, it's nearly one. We did the patrol. Let's just go back to the prefect's office and sign your cousin's damn parchment, okay?'

'Gladly.'

'And we'll do it in silence, how about that?'

'Please.'

They strode along the empty corridors, descending towards the prefects' office. It was too late to catch any stragglers now, and they were both preoccupied with their own thoughts.

 _Money your family stole from Muggles._

That's what she had said to him, and what made it worse was that this wasn't a revelation. It was something he had thought to himself over and over again as he lay in his bed at Malfoy Manor gazing as the cornices in the ceiling.

But what gave her the right to say that to him? Why was she any better because her parents were who they were? She wasn't allowed to choose hers, and he wasn't allowed to choose his, and the implication that he ought to riled him.

The parchment that Lucy Weasley had brandished at them had been pinned up on the notice board in the prefect's office. Rose reached it first, snatched up a quill from the head girl's desk, and began scribbling on the parchment. When she was finished she dropped the quill back onto the desk and marched off, leaving him alone in the empty room.

He picked up the quill and turned to the notice board. He inspected what she had written.

 _28/1/2022. 1:00 am. Rose W._

Her signature was simple, unremarkable. She wrote her name the way she had written the other words, in her small, rigid handwriting. No flourish or character or style. _Rose W._

Not Weasley: just W.

He pressed the quill onto the parchment.

 _28/1/2022. 1:01 am. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy._

He stared at his own scrawl, hesitating over it. He wondered now why he hadn't had the ingenuity to do what she did; to omit her father's name from her signature. He supposed it was too late to fix it now.

He set the quill back and turned away, striding out of the room. Somewhere within him he felt relief for the fact that they had made it through the patrol, but it was diminished by the fact that they would be putting themselves through the same ordeal in a week's time.

* * *

Her dorm-mates were all asleep when she returned from patrol. On other nights, she usually relished this time; the quiet of her dormitory, the moonlight through her window, the knowledge that she had another week of peace until the next prefect patrol.

But she didn't feel so enthralled at the moment. She could only lie on her bed stewing over her predicament.

He was a contradiction, and a purposeful one at that. She didn't like that; a contrarian for the sake of being a contrarian. Hair too long to be fashionable but not long enough to verge back around into fashionable. An unmade tie because he wanted to seem unkempt, but a silk shirt because he wanted to appear rich. Turning homework in late and unfinished but arriving at exams over prepared.

She lay back on her pillows and pressed her eyes shut. Like it or not, Scorpius Malfoy was her patrol partner. She had exhausted all attempts to squirm her way out of it. She would need to make her peace with it, but peace with Scorpius Malfoy seemed like an impossible feat.

* * *

'I just don't get it,' said Scorpius.

'Yes,' said Albus slowly. 'But do you need to… I mean…'

' _What?_ '

Albus sighed and set down his quill. 'I mean, I said I'd help you with the potions essay. I didn't know we were going to have to talk about Rose the _entire time_.'

'I haven't been talking about her the _entire time_ ,' retorted Scorpius. 'I just – all the stupid shit she says is still fresh in my mind.'

'Yes, she'll do that,' said Albus.

In an attempt to steer the conversation away from Rose, he took a glance around the library and his eyes came to rest on the entrance. Edmund Goyle and Clement Rosier had just come through the door. Looking around for a free table, they both caught sight of him staring, and he didn't look away in time. He could feel them watching him venomously as they crossed the library. He had become accustomed to them snarling at him over the last week.

'I swear they know it was me,' Albus muttered to Scorpius.

'Well, I _told_ you the invisiblity cloak didn't work. It must be fifty years old.'

'It _does_ work,' insisted Albus. 'I reckon they recognised my voice when I stupefied Goyle. _And_ they know I overheard them at the beginning of the year when they asked you to help them.'

'You're paranoid,' said Scorpius.

'You won't say that if I turn up dead.'

'Goyle doesn't know how to kill anyone. He can barely cast a levitation charm.'

Albus gave a sniff of laughter, before he inclined across the table to say to Scorpius, 'There's been nothing in the papers about the aurors having new leads.'

Scorpius nodded. 'I'm guessing that means the aurors didn't believe what we told Sinistra.'

'No, I'm guessing not.'

Sighing, Scorpius tossed down his quill and slumped back in his chair. 'I hate the Ministry.'

'Yeah, I'm starting to feel that way too.' Albus gestured towards Scorpius's parchment. 'You finished?'

'Don't rush me. It's a process.'

'Yeah, but Rose is coming to meet me at four o'clock. It's really exhausting be around you two when you're together.'

'Well, _thanks_.'

'It's not _my fault_.'

'What's not your fault, Ducky?'

Albus and Scorpius both looked around. James had appeared beside their table, and he pulled out a chair beside Albus and dropped into it.

'Nothing,' said Albus quickly. 'What do you want?'

'The cloak, please.'

'It's up in my dorm.'

James gave a sigh, swinging on his back legs, grinning at them. 'Can't trust you with anything, can I? You've had it for a week.'

'I know, I'll give it back-'

'And after all I've done for you. Pre-meditating your girlfriend to shag you.' Albus rolled his eyes, but didn't reply, and so James instead turned his attention to Scorpius. 'Good game on the weekend, Malfoy.'

'Thanks,' said Scorpius.

'I owe you one, mate. I mean, I didn't really expect you to _hand_ Slytherin the snitch, but seeming you did it will make it a lot easier for us to win the cup.'

Scorpius scowled, but didn't reply. He passed Albus his unfinished essay and began to stuff his books into his bag. 'I should go,' he said to Albus. 'I'm supposed to meet Zaina before dinner.'

'Ooh, can I come?' asked James eagerly. 'I'm very fond of Zaina.'

'Funny. She can't stand you,' said Scorpius, and he made to turn away, but rather failed as Rose had strode up behind him. He ran into her and they both jumped back. He began to apologise, before he realised who it was, and matched her scowl.

'Watch where you're going,' he said to her.

' _You_ walked into _me,_ ' she snapped.

'Well, don't sneak up on people,' he growled, and he pushed past her towards the exit.

Rose dropped down into Scorpius's vacated seat. Albus could see her eyebrows knitting together as she unpacked her bag. It was only when she had deposited all of her books on the desk that she apparently registered James's presence.

'What are you doing here?' she asked.

'That's not very nice, Rosie,' said James. 'Were you aware of this?'

'Aware of what?'

'Ducky's gotten chummy with Malfoy.'

'Yes, I'm aware.'

'And do you approve?'

'Absolutely not.'

James rounded back to Albus. 'Rose doesn't approve.'

Albus picked up Scorpius's essay and began to scan it. 'Rose doesn't approve of anything.'

James laughed, but Rose only pursed her lips. She turned to James and said coolly, 'Can you go away, please? We need to study.'

'Look, I only came to get the cloak,' said James, and he got to his feet. 'I expect it back in my possession by dinner, Al, or I'll be going to Zhao to ask if she wants me to give you any tips.'

And he too turned away and strode towards the exit. James's departure didn't do anything to improve Rose's mood, however; Albus could sense her anger in the forceful way she was turning the pages of her book.

'How was class?' he asked her.

'Terrible. You know I hate ancient runes.'

'Right.' He turned back towards Scorpius's essay, before he said in a low voice, 'I did tell him to leave before you got here, you know?'

She glanced up at him. 'What?'

'Scorpius. I did tell him you were coming-'

'I don't care, Albus.'

'He's not _that_ bad, you know.'

'Yes, I know you two are best friends now,' she drawled. 'You don't need my permission.'

'It would just be a lot easier if you two could get along.'

' _No_ ,' she snapped. 'He's a spoilt little brat, Albus, and the fact that you trust him is ludicrous. And it's not my responsibility to keep you away from him, but nor am I going to play nice with him for your sake.'

'I'm not asking you to.'

'Good, because I won't,' she snapped. 'Do you want me to help you with Defence or not? It doesn't bother me if you fail, you know.'

Sighing, but consenting, Albus opened his notepad and passed her the first draft of his essay.

* * *

The week until the next prefects' patrol passed oppressively quickly. She felt that she could focus on little else other than her dread for that three hours period in which she would be forced into Scorpius Malfoy's company.

Her temperament wasn't lightened by the morning _Prophet's_ heralding of more aurors being put out onto the streets and opinion polls tipping in Mikhael Rowle's favour.

'He'll never win,' said Xan confidently over breakfast one day. 'People aren't so stupid as to vote for him.'

But she was feeling increasingly less confident of the fact. She knew, not from anything her parents had told her but from her own reading, how it had been when her parents were at school. People had been complacent with the war. People had continued on living for as long as they could under the Death Eaters' regime without any rebellion. A small, dark part of her could understand that.

On the night of her patrol, she passed the hours after dinner reading in the common room. Chandra was with Connor and Albus was with Mei, and so she had no reasonably distraction to delay her reporting for prefects' duty.

Malfoy was waiting for her at the usual rendezvous at the top of the marble staircase.

'Evening,' he drawled when she reached him.

'Why do you always say that?' she asked.

He frowned at her. 'Say what?'

' _Evening_. Like you're a hundred years old.'

He gave a low sigh. 'Shall we invoke last week's rule? The no talking rule?'

'Yes, it worked wonderfully last week, didn't it?'

He ignored her and started down the corridor. She started after him. The first hour passed in silence as they strode through the dark, silent passageways.

As they rounded the corridor towards the transfiguration classroom, she heard the sound of a girl laughing faintly in the distance, and both she and Scorpius looked at each other.

'Well, in you go,' he said to her.

'Why me?'

'Because it's your turn,' he informed her. 'I sent the Slytherin gits off to bed at the end of our last patrol. Not that you appreciated it, of course.'

She shut her eyes, drew a sigh, and pushed her hair back from her face. Brushing past him, she continued down the passageway to the transfiguration classroom, the laughter growing louder. She wrenched open the door and the laughter from inside died away immediately.

Lily Potter, who was perched on the teacher's desk, blinked back at them. Adam Farouk stood at the chalkboard, halfway through drawing up a round of hangman. He was looking between Lily and the two prefects, apparently waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

Lily,' said Rose tiredly, 'Lucy's going to kill you.'

Lily, who seemed unperturbed by their arrival, gave a dramatic sigh. 'We're not doing anything.'

'I don't care. You know if you get caught out of bed Lucy will blame me.'

Lily sighed again, before saying to Rose, 'Well, you owe me. Come on, Adam.'

She slipped off of the desk and flounced out of the room. Adam hurriedly picked up a duster and erased the unfinished game from the chalkboard, before scurrying out of after Lily.

'Sorry,' he muttered to Rose and Scorpius as he passed them.

Once they were alone, Scorpius looked back at Rose. 'You know they're just going to go to a different room?'

Rose shrugged. 'We tried. Well, _I_ tried. You're doing the next one.'

'That's not fair. You hardly had to say anything. She's your cousin.'

'That doesn't mean it's not painful to talk to her.'

'You really don't like anyone, then? Other than Albus and Chandra?'

'This is veering away from prefect duty talk.' And she turned out of the room and started along the passageway once again, and she heard him follow after her, but he didn't attempt to speak to her again.

The castle war far less busy on their patrol than their last, and after Lily and Adam they passed most of their patrol without any disturbances. It wasn't until they were passing along the east passageway that they heard a loud clatter of metal hitting stone, and she let out a low sigh.

'Where'd that come from?' she groaned.

'Trophy room, I reckon.'

'Well, off you go. Your turn.'

'Fine. At least stand behind me or something for moral support.'

He strode to the door of the trophy room, tapped it with his wand, and the door swung open inwards. There were no students to be seen, but the room was none-the-less in disarray. A trophy cabinet had been tipped over, scattering the floor with broken glass, plaques and trophies that had rolled to all ends of the room.

Scorpius looked back over his shoulder to Rose. 'Peeves, I bet.'

'Lovely.'

'We should clean it up.'

'Should we?'

'What will Lucy say if we don't?'

Rose sighed deeply. 'Probably something derogatory.'

'That's a safe bet. So, do you want to help me or not?'

'Not really,' she said, but she brushed past him into the trophy room, withdrawing her wand. She vanished away the broken glass before she aimed her wand at the toppled trophy cabinet, slowly levitating upwards.

'I can do that,' he said, stepping forward with his own wand withdrawn.

'So can I,' she retorted, as she righted the cabinet against the wall. 'It's not _difficult_ , Malfoy. Just because I'm a girl doesn't been I'm incapable of casting a levitation charm.'

'It's not about you being a _girl_. I'm trying to be helpful.'

'Well, then stop talking and help me put the trophies back.'

Glaring at her, he did as he was told while she repaired the glass in the cabinet's face. One by one they collected the Quidditch trophies that had rolled away across the room and under cabinets, bickering over which shelf they belonged to.

'You're doing it _wrong_ ,' snapped Rose. 'They're arranged by years.'

'No, they're arranged by _house_ ,' he insisted. 'The Slytherin ones go on this shelf, and the Hufflepuff ones on this shelf.'

'That's ridiculous. Who in their right mind would arrange them like that?'

'Well, clearly the person who organised this shelf _wasn't_ in their right mind because this was how they were. Believe me, Weasley, I spent several hours polishing the bloody things with Albus.' He snatched the plaque she had been holding off of her, setting it down on the top shelf. 'That one's a Ravenclaw one, so that goes… _Fuck_.'

He was staring at the plaque. The little colour in his already pale face seemed to have drained away. She stood on her toes to inspect the plaque he had just set on the shelf. It was a framed photo of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team winning the house cup, inscribed with the year _2017_ followed by the names of the players and their positions. She recognised none of the faces.

She glanced back at Scorpius. 'What?'

He raised a finger to the inscription. 'August Selwyn.'

'August… _no_. What?'

She looked towards the name. Scrawled into the gold inscription was the name _August Selwyn_ followed by the word _Seeker._

'It says he played seeker,' said Scorpius. His voice was sounding unlike she had ever heard it, low and even. His finger flinched from the inscription to the photograph, pausing over the face of a dark-haired boy sitting in the front row. 'It's him. _I knew_ I recognised his voice. _I knew it_. He was head boy in our first year, remember?'

"Well, move your finger and I'll look, could you?' She forced his arm away and he reluctantly stepped back, allowing her to inspect the photograph.

The boy sitting in the seeker's seat was smiling at the camera, waving a hand up at her. He had a handsome, nondescript kind of face beneath a brunette fringe, but after staring at his bright, blue eyes for a moment she began to sense the familiarity. 'Yes… vaguely. Two-thousand and seventeen. That was the year my cousin Victoire was head girl.'

'He was a Ravenclaw,' said Scorpius. 'He was in my common room every night. I can't believe I didn't recognise his voice sooner. I just couldn't place him, I just couldn't... I need to go tell Professor Sinistra.'

He turned away from her, but she called him back. 'Malfoy, wait.'

He looked back at her, and snapped impatiently, 'What?'

'Look,' she insisted, pointing back towards the plaque at the smaller inscription jotted at the very bottom of the frame.

Frowning, Scorpius crossed back to her side, to inspect the Latin that had been inked below the frame.

'He's dead,' said Rose. ' _In memorium_. August Selwyn. Two-thousand to two-thousand and nineteen.'

Scorpius appeared not to understand. He continued to stare down at the plaque, his grey eyes narrowed. 'No, but… That's not right.'

'That's what it says.'

'I can see what it says, Weasley. I know how to read,' he growled. 'It's him though. I _know_ it was him.'

'But it says…'

'I know what it says!'

' _Listen_ ,' she bit back, 'it _says_ he's dead. The school must have been _told_ he was dead. Who would have told them that?'

He stared at her, his frown still in place, but he wasn't looking angry. 'You mean, if he's part of the Reclamation Army…'

'If they want people to _think_ he's dead…'

'Then he could keep killing people without getting caught,' he concluded. 'He could do all their work for them. So, you believe me?'

Rose hesitated. She glanced back towards the smiling boy in the photograph, his blue eyes glinting in the photo frame, before she turned back to Scorpius. 'It was definitely his voice?'

'Definitely.'

'Well, if the school's been told he's dead then Professor Sinistra won't believe you,' she said. 'You should write to my dad.'

'To your dad?'

'He's leading the investigation,' she reminded him.

'But what do I say?'

'Exactly what you know.'

'Will he believe that?'

Rose considered this for a moment. She imagined her father, sitting at his desk in the azure robes he wore into Diagon Alley (for she refused to picture him in aurors' robes), receiving a letter signed by a Malfoy. 'Perhaps Albus should write to him.'

Scorpius cocked an eyebrow. 'You're so disinterested you won't even write to your father?'

'I don't know all the details,' she dismissed, 'but if Albus writes to him he'll believe it.'

'You're certain?'

'I wouldn't say _certain_. Although I wouldn't tell you to do it if I thought he'd immediately toss the letter in the fire.'

Scorpius gave one of his short, sharp laughs. 'Alright.'

There was a brief silence in which neither of them had anything clever to say to each other, and so they both looked back towards the photo of August Selwyn.

She could recall him very faintly, like a story in a history book, but the longer she stared at the photo the more memory of him came back to her. He had caught the snitch at the first Quidditch match she ever went to at school. He had been friends with Victoire. He had smiled at her when she passed him in the passageways. He had, apparently, killed people.

'It must be nearly one,' she said. 'Surely we can go back now.'

From the corner of her eye she saw Scorpius glance at his watch. 'Quarter to. By the time we walk downstairs it will be finished.'

'Lovely.'

He raised a hand towards the door. 'After you.'

She decided against rolling her eyes at the gesture, and brushed past him out of the room.

* * *

 **Song Credit:** **_Pattern_ by The Last Shadow Puppets.**

 **A/N: I'm so shocked with myself by how quickly I'm updating but I've finished studying for the year and I've had a lot of the Scorose bits written in advance so I'm hoping to begin updating more frequently!**

 **Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing! Receiving such lengthy, thoughtful reviews really makes me want to keep writing. And I'm very appreciative of anonymous reviewer Nina who I haven't been able to reply to, but who has been so incredibly patient and encouraging!**


	16. Harlequin Dream

_16/12/2018_

* * *

 ** _Harlequin Dream  
_** _We run through the jungle  
And you can feel the rhythm of war  
I'm fighting but I just can't fight anymore, I'm in awe  
We'll give ourselves to the harlequin dream  
Giving over all our friends and our family  
And we'll say goodbye to the world that we love  
For I can no longer deny my blood_

* * *

It was strange to look at Ronald Weasley at such close proximity. He knew his face from book covers, magazine articles, the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ , but with only a few feet between them he felt he was seeing him properly for the first time; the faded freckles on his cheeks, the scars that wound up and down his arms, the thin shape of his jawline that his daughter had inherited.

Scorpius supposed that, had he been smiling, he could have been handsome, but the scowl he was wearing had persisted since Scorpius first stepped into the room. The auror had been offered to take over one of the unused classrooms for the day to interview Scorpius, Albus, the head mistress, and Ravenclaw's head of house.

'Right, shut the door,' said Ron Weasley bracingly. 'Take a seat if you like.'

Scorpius did as he was told. He had the impression the auror was fighting to sound civil, but merely sounded strained. He dropped down into the seat across the desk from Weasley. He could see the man scribbling out the day's date and the words _Statement_ \- _Scorpius Malfoy_ at the top of the parchment before him.

'My name's Ron Weasley,' said the auror needlessly, 'and I was hoping you could tell me what you told your head mistress.'

Weasley proceeded to open the draw of the desk and remove the Quidditch plaque from it, sliding it across the room to Scorpius. 'You recognised this man from the Shrieking Shack, is that right?'

Scorpius stared down at the smiling face of August Selwyn. 'Yeah.'

'But you didn't tell that to your head mistress last week, is that right?'

'Well, I didn't recognise him at first,' said Scorpius, rather defensively. 'And then I saw his photo in the trophy room and I knew it was him.'

Weasley looked down at his notes. 'But you didn't see his face. You recognised his voice, is that right?'

'Yes, but – but I know it was him.'

'And when you went into the Shrieking Shack what did you hear him saying?'

Scorpius was sure that Albus had already recounted this for his uncle, but Scorpius tried his best to be patient as he explained what they had heard. As he was talking, Weasley scribbled out his statement hurriedly onto the parchment.

'And there was no mention of this man's surname?' asked Weasley.

'No, but I know it was him,' insisted Scorpius.

'Yes, you said that. But I want to know if you _heard_ them say it.'

Reluctantly, Scorpius grumbled back, 'No.'

The auror nodded, jotting his answer down onto the parchment. 'And you didn't see his face, but you saw the faces of the four Slytherin students.'

'Yes.'

'Can you tell me their names?'

'It's Clement Rosier and Edmund Goyle and Laertus Zabini and Caliber Montague.'

'And if this was ever to reach the Wizengamot, you would be willing to testify?'

The bluntness surprised Scorpius, and he didn't answer immediately. Weasley looked up from his writing, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Scorpius wondered if anybody ever said no to the auror when he gave them that look.

'Yes,' said Scorpius.

'And you would be willing to take veritaserum to give a testimony?'

'I… Yeah, I would. Why? Is this going to go to the Wizengamot?'

'That's not my job to speculate on,' Weasley dismissed. 'But we need to know if the case is worth pursuing.'

'It _is_ worth pursuing,' said Scorpius. 'I know that school _thinks_ he's dead, but there are ways to fake that-'

'Yes, I'm aware,' said Weasley, rather curtly. He slid the parchment he had been scribbling on across the table to Scorpius. 'I need your signature on the dotted line there.'

Scorpius wanted to push the auror for more, but he found it somehow difficult to look him in the eye. He added his signature to the parchment.

 _Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy._ He once again considered how much he hated the sight of it.

He passed the parchment back to Weasley and asked, 'Are you going to try to find out where Selwyn is supposedly buried? Or who told the school he was dead?'

'You can't ask me that,' Weasley informed him, sounding rather bored. 'Thanks for your time. You can head off. I have other people I need to interview.'

* * *

'You ready?'

She looked up from her book. Her brother was standing before her, slouching in a Chudley Cannons jumper, his ringlets tied back in a ponytail. He looked rather bored, but expectant.

'Ready for what?' asked Rose.

'To go see Dad. You did read his letter, right? He's up at the school for the day.'

Rose looked back at her book. 'I'm studying.'

'No, you're not. You're reading.'

'Studying involves reading.'

'Why are you so shitty?'

'Don't let Mum and Dad hear their baby saying that word.'

'Fine, I'll tell him you're not coming,' said Hugo. 'He'll be sad though.'

'He'll be sadder if I fail my OWLs.'

'You're so grumpy, Rosie,' Hugo told her, but he didn't protest any further. He turned away from her and trudged away to the portrait hole.

* * *

'I won't allow it.'

Hermione gritted her teeth. 'Mikhael…'

'Exhuming a grave, without any solid evidence…'

'We have statements from two people,' said Ron hotly. 'They've both said they'll consent to taking veritaserum-'

'School children,' dismissed Mikhael Rowle. 'One of whom is your nephew. Now, I understand that he'd want to assist in the investigation…'

'You think he's made it up?' demanded Ron.

'Scorpius Malfoy is the one who recognised his voice as August Selwyn,' said Hermione matter-of-factly.

'All the same, the suspicions of children are not enough to convince me to allow you to disturb this poor boy's coffin,' said Rowle evenly. 'Your report said you've spoken to his mother. She identified his body after his death. There were witnesses to the accident, a hundred people at his funeral…'

'He was killed by a rogue bludger to the head,' growled Harry. 'His face was smashed in. It could have been _anyone_ they buried.'

'And for what end, Mr Potter?' asked Rowle. 'I've looked at the case file Mr Weasley prepared. August Selwyn had no history of violence, no history of protesting. He was a bright young man who died tragically. I will not allow you to put his parents through having to bury their son for a second time. You must simply accept that you've taken the investigation down the wrong path, yet again. First you hound Draco Malfoy, now you're harassing August Selwyn's family…'

'You'd have us just dismiss this?' Ron bit at him. 'After they were overheard talking about planning further attacks?'

'The four students your nephew believes he heard talking in the Shrieking Shack were up at the castle all day,' said Rowle. 'I'm afraid your witnesses must have misheard. These four boys – they are all from Pureblood families, and we are all aware that it is boys like these who stand to lose the most from the Reclamation Army's attacks.'

'Or so the Reclamation Army would have us believe,' snapped Harry. 'It's very convenient, having the Ministry working under the assumption that the attack was motivated by blood-equality.'

'You can't ignore what is before your eyes, Mr Potter,' said Rowle calmly. 'The Pureblood community has been the target of the Reclamation Army all along. We are at risk. Now, I've consulted with the Wizengamot and we are in agreement. Instead of focussing on _Pureblood_ suspects, perhaps you should take a look at some of your own kind.'

'Our own – _what the hell does that mean?'_ demanded Harry.

'The Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army,' said Rowle. 'As grateful as we are for what your comrades did for our nation during the war, you must admit that some of your associates have a history of anti-Ministry activism.'

The anger that surged through Harry forced him to his feet, but Hermione gave a sharp call for calm. 'Harry, sit down.'

He paid her no mind. His eyes were fixed on Rowle. 'How dare you…'

Rowle seemed unbothered, and he gave a lazy wave of his wand, conjuring up a magenta slip of parchment which he held aloft from Harry. 'You'll find the signatures of the entire Wizengamot, along with the Minister's. We want to know the whereabouts of everybody on the list on Christmas.'

Harry snatched the parchment from him. He scanned the list. Every living member of the Order and the D.A. had had their named added.

He looked back at Rowle to see that he was getting to his feet, straightening his navy robes. 'You cannot be serious.'

'Oh, I'm very serious, Mr Potter,' said Rowle pleasantly. 'I trust you and Mr Weasley will be able to get through the list very quickly, seeming you both know them all so well. And if you have any objections I'm sure the Minister will be pleased to hear them. Now, if you'll excuse me. I left a meeting with my campaign manager to hear this ridiculous request you've brought to me.'

Harry watched as Rowle strode from Hermione's office, his hands shaking with anger as they clutched the parchment. Once Rowle was gone, Harry aimed his wand at the door and it slammed shut, and he rounded on Ron and Hermione.

'Can you believe-'

'I know, mate, it's okay,' said Ron.

'He wants us to get alibis – for _everyone_. If Rowle had bothered to read your report, he'd know that the dark material would have been deployed from a distance. What are alibis even good for?'

'We _have_ them, Harry. Please sit down,' urged Hermione.

He looked up at her. 'You have them? What do you mean?'

Hermione glanced towards Ron who, looking grim, took out his wand and conjured up a scroll of parchment. He caught it from the air and passed it to Harry. Harry tore it open; it was the same list of names as on the parchment Rowle had given him, bur Ron's list had had the addition of annotations in Ron's messy hand writing. Harry scanned the list.

 _Elphias Doge – at Hogwarts School. Confirmed by head mistress Aurora Sinistra._

 _Lee Jordan – in Canary Islands. Confirmed by Alicia Jordan._

 _Luna Scamander_ _\- In Ottery St Catchpole. Confirmed by Xenophilius Lovegood._

Harry looked back up at Ron. 'What is this?'

'Alibis,' said Ron. 'For the night of the attack.'

'When did you do this?'

'When Kingsley first asked me to work on the case. I knew Rowle would ask us for it sooner or later. Sit down, would you? You're making me nervous.'

Harry did as he was told, sinking back into his chair, continuing to scan the list. He and Ginny, along with the other Weasleys, had all had their whereabouts confirmed as being in Ottery St Catchpole.

Harry looked back up at Ron. 'You didn't tell me.'

'You would have said the Ministry doesn't have the right to ask them for alibis.'

'Well, it _doesn't_ ,' said Harry, but he was feeling immense relief. 'So, they're all accounted for? Everyone?'

'Well,' said Ron bracingly, and Harry saw him exchange a glance with Hermione, 'not Mundungus Fletcher.'

Harry gave a low groan. 'Of course he isn't.'

'I have no idea where he is. Nobody's seen him. And I was hoping to talk to him before giving the list to Rowle, but it looks like I've run out of time to do that.'

'And that's all Rowle will notice,' sighed Hermione. 'You've got fifty people there with alibis, but if _Mundungus Fletcher_ was unaccounted for that has to be rectified.'

Harry rolled up the parchment and handed it back to Ron. 'Forget Mundungus. We can worry about him later. Give the list to Rowle.'

Ron nodded, retrieving the list from Harry. 'And what do we do about August Selwyn?'

'Maybe if more people get killed we'll get Kingsley to let us exhume the grave,' said Harry. 'But until then we need to find out where this material has come from and who had the ability to create it.'

* * *

'So, you never go to matches? _Never?_ '

'I go to the world cup sometimes,' said Albus as he buttered his toast. 'When my family makes me.'

'Why don't you go?'

'I don't like watching Quidditch. Playing it is fine, but watching it is dull.'

Scorpius shook his head in disgust. 'That's sacrilege.'

'Will you go to the world cup?'

Scorpius shrugged. 'Maybe. I usually do. My dad gets free tickets because he donates money to it, but like… you know.'

Albus glanced up at him. 'What?'

'My mum's supposed to have the baby in June, so I don't know… My dad might not want to go.'

'Oh, right.'

'Yeah.' Scorpius picked at his bowl of porridge, scowling. He wished he hadn't mentioned his parents.

'You could come with my family,' said Albus. 'If you want to.'

Scoroips raised his eyebrows. 'They wouldn't mind?'

'No, course not.'

Scorpius didn't exactly know how to tell Albus how much he appreciated the offer, and so he simply said, 'Yeah, maybe. Who do you think will be in the house cup?'

Albus shrugged, but attempted to answer as a means of changing the topic. Scorpius had realised this was something he liked about Albus; he didn't push anyone to talk about things they didn't want to.

'Well,' said the Gryffindor thoughtfully, 'now that you guys lost to Slytherin we might actually have a chance of winning.'

'Thanks.'

'What? You asked.'

'No, I know. You've still got to beat Hufflepuff and Slytherin, though.'

'Yeah, and Montague will probably knock me off my broom so…'

'Oh, god. Stop it, would you? They don't know it was you. It's been nearly two weeks. They would have done something by now.'

Albus looked unconvinced, but before he could protest they were interrupted by the sound of wings and screeching as owls swooped down from overhead with the morning post. The Malfoy's eagle owl dropped a letter into Scorpius's bowl of porridge, while a brown screech owl landed beside Albus.

Scorpius fished the letter out of his bowl and dropped it onto the table, sipping his pumpkin juice. He tapped the letter against the table, reluctant to open it but anxious to find out what news his mother had from him. He braced himself with a steadying breath before tearing the letter open.

It was written in his mother's slim, elegant handwriting. He read it over, careful for any indication that she wasn't doing well, but there was nothing other than her usual optimism. He set the letter down, frowning, and glanced up at Albus, who was reading his own letter.

'Who's that from?' asked Scorpius.

'My uncle,' said Albus. 'Mikhael Rowle's not letting them exhume August Selwyn's grave.'

'You serious?'

Albus nodded, passing the letter to Scorpius so he could read it.

'It's alright, though,' said Albus. 'I'm sure they have other ways of finding out where he is.'

Scorpius scanned the letter and passed it back to Albus. 'Yeah, but if Rowle won't let them exhume the grave then he won't let them do anything else to investigate, will he?'

Albus didn't answer. He was looking across the great hall to where Chandra and Rose had just strode through the doors. They scanned the Gryffindor table, catching sight of him. Albus could see Rose frowning at the presence of Scorpius. She seemed ready to turn on her heel and walk away, but Chandra took hold of her hand and steered her over.

'Morning, Al,' trilled Chandra, dropping into a seat beside Albus. 'Morning, Scorpius.'

'Morning, Chandra.'

Rose said nothing in the way of greeting, but instead went straight to pouring herself a cup of tea.

'Oh, I could just die,' sighed Chandra, wrapping a strand of sleek, black hair around her finger. 'I'm _so_ tired. Connor didn't wake you up when he came back to your dorm last night, did he? I told him to be quiet, but we'd had some mead.'

'He did, but that's no surprise,' grumbled Scorpius. 'He does it all the time.'

Chandra seemed taken aback by his lack of enthusiasm, but she recovered quickly. 'Oh, Scorpius, I'm really, really sorry. It's my fault, I kept him up too late.'

Scorpius was only half listening. He was drumming his fingers against the table, thinking about how he was supposed to reply to his mother's letter, and the news from Albus's uncle, and the way Rose Weasley was scowling at him from across the table.

In another bid for conversation, Chandra asked, 'What are you guys doing for Valentine's Day on the weekend?'

'Probably do something with Mei, I guess,' said Albus. 'You?'

'Oh, well, Connor says he doesn't care about Valentine's day, but I think he's just saying that, because he can actually be very romantic sometimes. I know you wouldn't expect that of him, because he's so down to earth-'

Before he could stop himself, Scorpius gave a sniff of laughter. The three Gryffindors looked at him; Chandra bemused, Albus warning, and Rose venomous.

'Oh, Scorpius, you won't make fun of him, will you?' asked Chandra pleadingly. 'He likes people to think he's so stoic. I shouldn't have said he was romantic – he'll be mortified.'

'I wasn't laughing at that,' said Scorpius. When Chandra continued to stare at him with wide, brown eyes, he added, 'I just wouldn't call him down to earth.'

'We should go to class,' said Albus quickly. 'Come on, Scorpius, I'll walk you upstairs.'

'Oh, wouldn't you?' said Chandra thoughtfully. 'I always thought… Well, he's so smart. He is in Ravenclaw, after all.'

'Being in Ravenclaw doesn't make you smart,' retorted Scorpius.

'No, you're evidence of that,' said Rose.

'Oh, come on,' snapped Scorpius. 'Don't pretend you like him. You've told me before you think he's an idiot.'

Chandra glanced towards Rose, looking worried. 'Really, Rosie?' she asked. 'I didn't know that. I thought… if you just got to know him…'

Albus saved Rose from answering by grabbing hold of Scorpius's arm. 'Zaina's coming over here, Scorpius.'

Scorpius looked over his shoulder. Zaina was indeed striding towards them across the great hall, her black ringlets cascading over her shoulders. When she reached them her eyes scanned over the group of them, before coming to rest on Scorpius. She ran a hand over his shoulder.

'Morning, Scorp.'

'Morning,' he grumbled back.

'Are you ready to go?' she asked softly, trailing her fingers through her hair. 'Doge will lose it if you're late again, love.'

'Yeah,' he replied, snatching up the letter from his mother and stuffing it into his pocket. 'I'll see you at lunch,' he said to Albus, before taking Zaina's offered hand and following her away from the table.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the Gryffindors, Zaina abandoned her sweet, soft voice for her usual purposeful drawl. 'Why were you sitting with them?'

'I intended to sit with Albus, but Weasley and Thomas turned up.'

Zaina sighed, impatient. 'I don't know why you're such good friends with Potter all of a sudden. He's so weird.'

'I'd take him over Connor and Kienan,' Scorpius snapped at her. 'Why do you care anyway?'

Zaina pursed her lips, trying to look dignified as she invented an excuse. 'I just don't want to have to see them all the time if you're friends with them.'

'I'm only friends with Albus,' he informed her as they started up the marble stairs. 'And I constantly have to put up with your friends. Why shouldn't you do the same?'

'Because, dear, up until a few weeks ago you didn't have any friends.'

'Thank you, Zaina.'

'Oh, darling, what's the matter? You're so sulky.

'You just told me I have no friends.'

She gave him a knowing smile. 'Was that a letter from you parents?'

'So, when you insult me I can't be annoyed just because you've insulted me? It has to be spurred by my parents?'

'Everything about you is spurred by your parents, dear,' she said, giving his hand a consoling a pat. She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. 'You'll have to get over it one day. Hating your dad can't excuse you sulking your whole life.'

* * *

He had intended to allow himself time to reply to the letter from his mother that he had been ignoring since that morning, but he had dawdled too long on the Quidditch pitch that afternoon practicing with Albus. Once dressed, he sat on his bed and re-read the letter for what had to be the fifth time.

 _Everything is going splendidly here_ , she had finished the letter with. _The healer's say the baby is doing very well_.

It was this line that made it so hard to reply. He didn't care how well the baby was doing; he wanted to know how his mother was, but of course she didn't tell him that.

He spent so long stewing over the letter that he was holding, before he glanced towards the clock on his bedside table. Realising he was late, he stuffed the letter into his trunk and left his dormitory.

Rose Weasley was reading when he found her, but she snapped her book shut before he reached her and stowed it away in her satchel. She folded her arms, her dark eyes watching him.

'You don't need to say anything,' he grumbled when he reached her.

She raised her eyebrows at him. 'I didn't.'

'I wasn't _trying_ to be late. I just didn't see the time, okay?'

'I didn't _say anything_ , Malfoy. I don't just sit around waiting for you. I was reading.'

'Well, you don't have to look at me like that.' He turned away, starting down the corridor.

It took a few seconds for Rose's footsteps to start, and then she fell into stride with him. They were silent as they walked. The quiet of the passageways and the February chill was somewhat sobering, and he told himself to force the letter from his mother from his mind.

He realised, annoyed with himself, that he had allowed his anger to show when he had snapped at Rose. He liked it better when she was insolent and immature, while he kept to the high ground.

In an effort to reclaim his dignity, he said to her, 'What were you reading?'

She glanced towards him. 'I thought we weren't supposed to talk to each other?'

'Well, it didn't work very well last time,' he grumbled, and immediately tried to sound calm when he said, 'Just tell me what you were reading, would you?'

Rose seemed to hesitate, before saying guardedly, 'A book.'

'Don't be annoying.'

'You won't know it. It's a Muggle book.'

'I might. We read Muggle books for Muggle studies.'

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, before seemingly dismissing him and saying simply, 'Well, I doubt you've read this one.'

'You're not the only person in the world who knows how to read, you know?'

'Fine. It's called _Anna Karenina._ '

'I've read that,' he insisted. 'By Tolstoy. We had to do it in Muggle studies.'

'You haven't.'

'How would you know?' he demanded. 'You don't know what books I've read. See, at the moment I'm reading this really obscure Muggle author – don't know if you'd have heard of him. William Shakespeare?'

'Funny.'

'Thank you.'

They started up the staircase to the second floor, and he realised Rose wasn't going to continue the conversation. He let them walk for a while, dwelling on his letter for his mother, but he found he didn't much like dwelling on it.

'Think of something to talk to talk about,' he said to Rose.

She glanced at him. 'Why do you want to talk all of a sudden?'

'I don't know. It's boring walking around in silence.'

'Well, I don't have anything to talk about.'

'You must.'

'I don't. You think of something if you want to talk.'

'Alright, fine. Let's see… I met your dad the other day.'

She stopped walking to look at him. 'So?'

'So. Let's talk about that.'

'I don't understand what there is to talk about.'

'Did you have a little catch-up?'

'No.'

Scorpius frowned at her. 'He's come up to Scotland and you didn't even go see him?'

'Is that a problem?'

Scorpius shook his head, before saying to her, 'He's a bit like you. Grumpy, you know.'

'He's not grumpy.'

'He was when I met him.'

'He probably doesn't like you, then.'

'Why? What's he usually like?'

She shook her head and started down the corridor. 'I don't want to talk about my dad.'

'Why not? Do you two not get along or something?'

'No, we get along fine.'

'You seem like you don't like it when people mention him.'

'I'm sure you don't like it when people mention your dad.'

'Yes, but your dad's a famous auror. Seeming you love to remind people you're superior to them I'd think that would be a good thing to bring up.'

'Alright, I have a topic,' she said. 'Why did you tell Chandra that I'd said Connor is an idiot?'

'What?'

'This morning at breakfast.'

'That bothered you?'

'Yes, Malfoy, it did. I've had to endure the last twelve hours of her insisting I just need to get to know him.'

'Well, maybe you would. You two could be wonderful friends. You don't have any others.'

He reminded himself of Zaina in that moment, and he didn't like it. Rose, however, seemed unbothered.

'You're not answering my question,' she said to him. 'Why'd you have to tell Chandra that?'

'Well, what do you want me to say? You _did_ say he's an idiot. And more to the point he _is_ an idiot. Somebody ought to let Thomas know that. I'm doing her a favour.'

Rose gave a sharp life. 'Oh, yes. I forgot how much you like Chandra. You're so good to her, Malfoy. With her best interests at heart, of course.'

'If you were really her friend you wouldn't let her go out with that git.'

'Who she goes out with is none of my business.'

'And yet you take Albus dating Mei as a personal affront?'

'It's only a personal affront when I have to be in her presence,' snapped Rose. 'Chandra likes everyone to like everyone else. If you need to make my life difficult I'd appreciate it if you did it without hurting Chandra's feelings.'

'Alright, fine,' he snapped. 'Next time I'll find something else to annoy you with, okay?'

'Thank you very much,' she grumbled.

'You're very welcome.' They continued walking. He realised, quite quickly, that he had just ruined any civility they had been working towards, and so he said to her, 'What is it exactly that you don't like about Mei?'

Rose gave a groan. 'Do we have to talk about Mei Zhao of all things?'

'I'm just asking. I've never had a problem with her.'

'That's because you've never had prefect patrol with her,' said Rose. 'She's a complete totalitarian. She gave detentions to some first-year who were playing exploding snap in the library after curfew.'

'Well, that _is_ what the head girl told us to do.'

'Fine. Next time we catch someone out of bed you can take them to their head of house.'

'I'm not saying I agree with it,' he said. 'I just feel like for Albus's sake you might choose to give her the benefit of the doubt.'

'My not liking Mei doesn't need to effect Albus. I'm not going to pretend to like her for his peace of mind.'

'But you'll pretend to like Connor to keep Chandra happy? Where's the logic in that?'

'Because it hurts Chandra's feelings thinking I don't like Connor.'

'Well, it bothers Al that you don't like Mei,' said Scorpius.

Rose gave on of her sharp laughs. 'Albus doesn't care. He's completely blinded by love.'

'He _does_ care. He told me.'

Rose sighed. 'Okay, Malfoy, I don't know what you want me to say. I don't like Mei and I can't force myself to for Albus's sake, alright? Look, I think we need a new topic of conversation if we're going to keep going like this.'

'Alright, go right ahead.'

'Alright. Why are you taking Muggle studies?'

'Why are you asking me that?'

'It's a topic of conversation. Why are you taking Muggle studies?'

It was the first time he had ever had to think of a proper justification for this. While his father and his grandfather had found it bemusing, they had never directly asked him for a reason, probably afraid that he would tell them that he liked Muggles.

He settled upon saying to Rose, 'The reading list is good. We do a different Muggle book each month. They're all fiction books, so there's no revision, which I like.'

'So that's why you continued with it?'

'Partly.'

'And what's the other part?'

'To annoy my dad.'

She frowned at him. 'Seriously?'

He looked at her. 'What?'

'Nothing,' she said, and when he continued to glare at her she said, 'It's just an excessive route to go down to annoy your dad.'

'It's not like I hate the class. I like it better than my other subjects. And I don't know what job I want so I don't care what OWLs I take.'

'You could go work for the Ministry,' she suggested coolly. 'Once Rowle takes over he'll only employ Purebloods, so it will work out very well for you.'

He forced himself to not give her the satisfaction of knowing she was annoying him. Instead of retorting, he said, 'When's your birthday?' he asked.

She frowned at him. 'My birthday?'

'Yes, Weasley, your birthday.'

'Why do you want to know?'

'So I can steal your identity. No, because I was going to ask if you'll be old enough to vote in November. God, Weasley.'

'I'll turn seventeen in October. And you?'

'September.'

'And who will you vote for?'

'That's a personal question.'

'Don't answer it then.'

'Well, thankfully I'll vote for Shacklebolt. Otherwise this would have been awkward.'

Rose looked surprised by this. 'You support Shackebolt?'

'Why is that so shocking?'

'Why do you support him?'

'The same reasons you do, I assume,' he told her impatiently. 'He gives extra funding to St Mungo's, extra funding to Hogwarts. He taxes Gringotts. He's brought in reform for the rights of house elves and other creatures. And most importantly, if he wins that means Rowle doesn't win.'

'Yes, but if Rowle wins he'll restore Purebloods to their rightful place. Wouldn't you like that?'

He looked at her, scowling. 'You think that I want to see every Muggle-born rounded up and sent to Azkaban?'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'So dramatic. That would never happen.'

'It's already starting,' insisted Scorpius. 'The Wizengamot's agreed to Rowle's curfew, and Muggle studies isn't going to be compulsory anymore. He's blocking your dad's investigation into August Selwyn, and the Wizengamot is allowing him to do it. He's just going to keep gaining more and more power until he can do whatever he likes.'

Rose seemed to consider this for a moment, before saying, 'That's very Orwellian.'

Scorpius allowed himself to glance at her. 'Orwellian?'

'George Orwell. He was a Muggle author.'

'I know who George Orwell was,' he snapped. 'I mean how is this Orwellian?'

'This idea you've got of him taking over slowly, without any real grab for power. You seem to be under the impression that he's got enough support to win the election.'

'Well, he's ahead in the polls.'

'That's just hysteria,' she dismissed. 'Anyone with a modicum of intelligence knows that Rowle is manipulating everyone into supporting him. When it comes down to it nobody will actually vote for him.'

'You really think that?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Well, I hope you're right,' he said. 'You seem to give people a lot more credit than I think they deserve.'

'Well, don't give up hope. One day we'll be living in a dystopian dictatorship and you can say I told you so.'

In spite of himself, he realised he had laughed. As he did so, Rose turned to look at him; it was as if she hadn't believed it possible to see him laughing. He quickly composed himself, looking away.

They continued along the patrol path, starting up their stairs to the astronomy tower.

* * *

It was nearly twelve by the time he made it back to his dormitory. There were still a considerable number of stragglers awake; the fifth and seventh-years had reluctantly begun to brace for their impending exams. He was pleased to see Julian Jiang and Linus Stebbins by the fire poring over revision notes, ensuring that his dormitory would be unoccupied other than Finlay.

He climbed the stairs to his dormitory and kicked the door open. Finlay was lying sprawled on his four-poster, flicking through his potions book, and looked around in time to see James tearing the invisibility cloak off.

Finlay tossed his book aside and sat up. 'Where's the ale?'

James moved across the room and slumped down onto his four-poster. 'I didn't get it.'

Finlay sighed, disappointed. 'Well give me my sickles back then.'

James ignored him, wrenching open the draw of his bedside table. He proceeded to begin to rummage through it, unearthing a medley of empty tobacco tins, broken quills, and an accumulation of scrap paper.

'What's the matter?' asked Finlay.

'They've closed it up,' said James.

'You mean the passageway?'

'Yes, obviously the passageway.'

' _What?_ Are you sure?'

James didn't answer. He had found what he was looking for, and pulled out the weathered Marauder's Map. He tapped it with his wand, grumbling as he did so, ' _I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good_.'

'What are you doing?' asked Finlay.

'I need to look for another way out,' said James. 'Mundungus says he has work for me. There's that other passageway that comes up near the apothecary…'

'That's the one that caved in,' said Finlay.

'Shit, I forgot.'

'How is the one on the third-floor closed up? She's served us so well all these years. We need a moment of silence.'

'The professors must have found out it was there.' James reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his tin of tobacco. He lay the map on his lap and continued to scan it as he rolled himself a cigarette.

'How? Nobody would tell them. Everyone who knows about it uses it.'

'Fin, believe me, if I knew who it was I'd be out murdering them.' James lit his cigarette, took a drag, and tapped a corner of the map. 'What about this one?'

Finlay crossed to James's bed, taking a seat beside him to see what he was looking at. 'The Shrieking Shack?'

'Yeah.'

Finlay sighed, running a hand through his dreadlocks. 'We've tried it so many times. There are a lot of charms…'

James offered the cigarette to Finlay, who took it from him. James watched him as he dragged on it, the smoke billowing towards the ceiling.

'We've broken most of them,' insisted James. 'Come on, I reckon it's worth a go.'

'Yeah, but we gave up because we broke half of them and couldn't break the rest.'

James was growing irritated. 'Well, that was like two years ago. We've learnt heaps more about counter-charms. I reckon I can do it.'

Finlay sunk down onto the bed beside him and passed the cigarette back to the chaser. _'James_ …'

'Oh, don't start,' he snapped. 'I need the money. Are you going to help me or not?'

Groaning, Finlay lay back on James's bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 'Yes, because I'm an idiot.'

'No, it's because you're amazing. Come on, if I make it out I'll bring you back some ale.'

* * *

A good twenty minutes whiled away while they tried to convince a group of second-years they had found roaming the astronomy tower to return the dormitory. When they finally sent the group of their way (confident that they would no doubt just find a different floor to go to), Rose and Scorpius continued along the dark corridor.

'So,' said Scorpius eventually, 'all these books you like to brag about having read. Is that what you want to do when you leave school?'

'What?' asked Rose. 'Brag about books?'

'No, like – be a writer or something?'

'Just because I like reading doesn't mean I want to be a writer. Everybody likes reading.'

'It would be so you, though. Smug bookish girl with aspirations to become a writer and change the world and has the liberty of actually pursuing it due to not having to get a real job after school because your parents have money.'

'What are those shoes made out of, Malfoy? Dragon hide?'

Scorpius glanced down at the black school shoes he was wearing. 'Do you have a problem with them?'

Rose gave a sniff of derision. 'If I ever asked my mum to buy be something that expensive she'd never speak to me again.'

'I never _asked_ my parents to buy me dragon hide shoes. They just do it, I mean…' When he noticed Rose laughing he said, 'Oh, shut up. Fine, point taken: my family's rich. You're avoiding the question.'

'What question?'

'What is it that you want to be when you finish school?'

She gave a shrug. 'I'm not sure. I suppose I'd like to go abroad. Or maybe something in Muggle correspondence.'

'What's with you and Muggles?'

'What?'

'Well, all the books you read are Muggle books.'

'You read them too.'

'Only for Muggle studies. And I'm not the one saying I want to work in Muggle correspondence.'

'Well, it's not like I've got my mind set on it.'

'Then what attracts you to it?'

'Basically, I… I'd prefer to work somewhere where people don't know who my parents are.'

He looked at her. 'Really?'

'Yes, go ahead. Tell me how ungrateful I am.'

'No, I just…' He laughed, and she looked at him, frowning, and in explanation he said, 'I can't tell you how long I've spent trying to find a job that fits that description.'

'How many have you come up with?'

'None, really,' he said. 'I'm not in a rush. My parents have a vault for me at Gringotts, and my grandfather left me a lot of money when he died, so – oh, shut up.'

'I didn't say anything.'

'Yes, okay. I already said my family's rich.'

'I didn't _say anything_ ,' she sighed. 'So, knowing that you're a billionaire-'

'Not a _billionaire_.'

'Knowing that you don't urgently need to find a job,' she substituted, unbothered. 'What would you like to do then? When we finish school?'

'Oh, I don't know.,' he said. 'Anything but go work for the ministry. I'll kill myself before I become a bureaucrat.'

'So, you have no plans at all?'

'Just travel, I guess.'

'Me too, I suppose.'

'Where would you go?'

'Anywhere. You?'

'Eastern Europe first, I think. Prague, Budapest, Bucharest – in Romania, you know?'

'I know where Bucharest is, Malfoy,' drawled Rose.

'Well, not everyone does. I thought I'd clarify,' he said. 'And then I'd probably go over to the America. New York, maybe…'

'Oh, wow, New York,' said Rose. 'Is that in America, Malfoy?'

He sighed. 'Yes, okay, you're very funny.'

'I'd love to go this really obscure place called France,' said Rose. 'It's in Europe, I think.'

'Oh, yeah, France, I've heard of that,' he said. 'Next to Romania, right?'

'Yes, between Romania and Portugal.'

'Oh, yes. You're so well educated.'

'Thanks. I read lots of books.'

'I can tell.'

He could see her smiling, and he was grinning, and he suddenly felt idiotic for doing so. To avoid looking at her, he took a glance towards his watch. 'It's nearly one, you know?'

'Is it?'

'Time goes quickly when you're learning so much about geography.'

'Okay, I think the joke's dead now,' said Rose resolutely. 'Shall we go back to the prefects' office?'

'Gladly.'

They made their way to the staircase and trudged their way downstairs, their footsteps echoing along the empty torch-lit passageways.

When they reached the door of the prefect's office he gave the dragon-head door-knocker the password, and he heard the lock click open. He pulled the door open, waving Rose inside, and she strode past him.

The sheet of parchment remained on the noticeboard, waiting for their signatures. Rose jotted down the date, the time and her name, and then stepped aside to let him sign the parchment.

He scratched out his signature and, from behind him, he heard Rose say, 'Hyperion.'

He rounded on her. He hadn't realised she had been watching him write. 'Do you mind?'

'Exquisite name.'

'Shut up.' He turned back to the noticeboard and wrote out the date and time. 'It means _he who watches from above_.'

'Oh, how beautiful.'

He rolled his eyes and set the quill down, turning to face her. He folded his arms, trying to look dignified. 'What's your middle name then?'

'I don't have one.'

'That's not fair.'

'Alright, it's Virginia.'

He raised his eyebrows. ' _Virginia?_

'Yes.'

'Let me guess – after Virginia Woolf?'

'After my grandmother.'

' _Sure_ ,' he drawled.

'Okay, well, not that this hasn't been fun, but I'm leaving.'

'Same.'

She started towards the door, and he followed her. He shut the door behind them and she turned back to him.

'Well, goodnight,' she said.

'Same time next week?'

'I suppose.'

'Just think of the Hogsmeade visits,' he advised. 'It's all worth it for the sake of the Hogsmeade visits.'

'It's what gets me through the day. Night, Malfoy.'

'Night, Weasley.'

He turned away towards the west, on route to Ravenclaw tower, and she turned east towards Gryffindor tower. They strode away, listening to the others fading footsteps reverberating off of the castle's stone walls.

* * *

Like every Saturday since returning to school, Albus spent a good portion of it at Quidditch practice. James had become even more vigorous since Ravenclaw had lost to Slytherin. James knew, as did Albus and the rest of the team, that if Gryffindor were to win next month's match against Hufflepuff then they would secure their place in the final.

When practice was over, Albus showered and dressed as quickly as possible. He crossed to the mirror in the change rooms, engaging in the all-too frequent battle of trying to get his fringe to stay flat.

'Where are you off to looking so pretty, Al?' asked Louis.

'Lou, you prat, it's Valentine's day,' said Finlay. 'Ewan's gonna kill you.'

'Ewan doesn't even know what month it is,' said Louis carelessly as he pulled on a clean pair of trousers.

James stepped forward and threw his arm around Albus, ruffling his hair and destroying what little progress Albus had made in flattening it.

' _Piss off, James_ ,' snapped Albus, pushing his brother away.

'Aw, don't worry, Ducky,' cooed James. 'You look stunning. Mei won't know what's hit her. I mean, presumably she was hit by a bludger at some point to want to shag you but – _okay, fine, calm down!'_

Albus had elbowed James sharply in the chest and managed to wriggle out of his grip. He pulled on his jacket and gloves. He snatched up the gift he had brought for Mei and left the change room.

Mei was waiting for him in the Great Hall, wearing a blue button-up dress with her long black hair done up in a braid. She smiled when she saw him, and he strode over to her, kissing her cheek.

'Happy Valentine's Day,' he said, passing her the gift.

Smiling, she unwrapped the box of Honeydukes' Finest. Mei sighed, though her cheeks were slightly pink. 'Albus, I told you not to get me anything.'

'I know, but I wanted to. What do you feel like doing?'

'It's not too cold outside,' she said. 'Shall we go for a walk?'

'Sure.'

Hand in hand, they left the Great Hall. The opted to follow the path through the herbology gardens and passed most of the walk on the topic of Mei's ancient runes revision and Quidditch practice.

There were few students venturing out into the cold, preferring to spend Valentine's day in the warmth of the castle, and so when he heard their voices approaching he took notice.

He glanced back over his shoulder, and his stomach turned. Edmund Goyle and Clement Rosier had rounded the corner of one of the greenhouses. They weren't walking on the pathway, but instead trudging through the garden beds as if to remain out of sight. They were talking to each other, laughing loudly, but Albus could see them taking it in turns to glance in his direction.

' _Albus_ ,' came Mei's voice, as if from far off.

He tore his eyes from the Slytherins and looked back to her. 'Huh?'

'I was talking to you,' said Mei tersely.

'Oh, right… Sorry, I…' But he didn't have an excuse. He looked back towards the Slytherins; they were no longer making an effort to feign disinterest, but rather staring directly at him and Mei.

Mei looked over her shoulder and, seeing what he was looking at, sighed deeply. With her hands on her hips, she started towards the Slytherins.

Albus sprung after her. 'Mei, don't…'

Mei ignored him. 'Excuse me,' she snapped at Goyle and Rosier, 'is there a problem?'

The Slytherins seemed initially startled by Mei's open interrogation, before Goyle seemed to recover. 'I don't know, ask your boyfriend. Is there a problem, Potter?'

'You two don't need to be here,' said Mei coolly. 'You have the whole castle to be in.'

'Mei, come on,' said Albus, taking her hand. 'Just forget it.'

Mei ignored him again. 'I can take you to your head of house, you know?'

'Oh, yeah? For what?' demanded Rosier.

'You're in the plimpy bed,' said Mei, gesturing to the fresh dirt the Slytherins were standing in. 'Professor Longbottom just planted those. I'm sure he'd like to know who overturned the soil.'

Scowling, Goyle and Rosier exchanged glances, before they reluctantly started away. They pushed past Albus, and Goyle muttered as he did so, 'I'd watch my back if I were you, Potter.'

Once they Slytherins were out of earshot, Albus turned back to Mei and muttered to her, 'Please don't antagonise them.'

Mei raised her eyebrows. 'I wasn't antagonising them. They shouldn't have been in the garden bed.'

'I know, I just… I'm worried they knew it was me in the Shrieking Shack.'

Mei sighed. 'Well, I _told_ you no good would come of that. Come on, let's sit down.'

Mei took his hand and let him over to the edge of a frozen water fountain. They sat down on the edge of the pool, clinging to each other against the February chill. He raised a gloved hand to brush a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

'Those boys are such idiots,' said Mei. 'Whether or not you _really_ saw them in the Shrieking Shack-'

'I did see them,' said Albus.

'Yes, well, so many of the kids here are so immature,' said Mei. 'I'm almost wishing this was my last year.'

'Really? You wouldn't miss it?'

Mei frowned at him. 'You don't even like school.'

'Yes, but you do.'

'Well, I'm just ready to start something new, I think,' she told him. 'I just want to pass my NEWTs and apply for the DMLE.'

'I wish I was as set on what I wanted to do as you are,' he sighed. 'I have no idea.'

'Well, my mum doesn't like my plans. She thinks I should go abroad when I finish.'

'Really? To do what?'

'Maybe find an internship in France. I speak a little French, so it wouldn't be too hard.'

Albus nodded, trying to look encouraging, but secretly he hated the idea. Trying to sound unbothered, he said, 'You'd really want to leave Britain?'

'Not exactly,' she said. 'But mum says it's not safe here anymore. She worries about everything, and this Reclamation Army has made her even more worried. She and Adalric are Purebloods, and she thinks that if the Reclamation Army is targeting Purebloods then we could be in trouble.'

'Does Adalric think so too?'

Mei shook her head. 'He tells her not to worry, but she always worries. She's saying he needs to leave the Department of Mysteries – that it's not safe him working at the Ministry after what happened at Christmas. She's been like that ever since my dad died. Everything makes her anxious.'

'I know what that feels like,' said Albus.

'Well, you don't really,' said Mei.

Albus knew she didn't mean to be combative, rather matter-of-fact, but he still felt the need to say sorry. He resisted, however; he had been working on refraining from saying sorry since beginning to date Mei.

'Having someone die makes you realise how suddenly things can change,' she said. 'Adalric understands that, I think. His son died, you see. A long time ago, but I think that's why he and my mum understood each other so well.'

Albus nodded, thinking, before saying slowly, 'I think… I think if you want to go to France you should. But not because of your mum – only if that's what you'd like.'

Mei frowned. 'You'd want me to?'

'No, of course not,' he said quickly. 'Well, I mean… if it would make you happy then I suppose I wouldn't… wouldn't mind.'

'You could come visit,' she told him. 'Or you could come with me.'

Albus liked the idea, but he told himself not to sound too eager. 'Yes, maybe. I mean, if we're still together when we finish school.'

Mei looked at him. 'What does that mean?'

'Well, I mean… You have another year after this one ends, and then I have a year after that… I suppose you might get sick of me.'

'Albus, you have to stop that,' Mei informed him. 'It's so tiring of constantly assuring you that I like you.'

'I know, I know, I'm sorry… I just… I like it when you tell me you like me.'

She rolled her eyes, but inclined to lean her head against his shoulder. 'If we're still together when we've both finished school you should look for a potioneering apprenticeship in France.'

He kissed the top of her head. 'I'd like that.'

She turned to face him, and inclined to kiss him. He breathed in the smell of her hair, raising his arm to pull her against his chest.

'I wish we were in the same house,' he said to her.

'Why do you wish that?'

'So we could be together at night,' he said. 'Instead of trying to figure out when our dorms will be empty, we could just stay up together. I'd like that… I'd like… Well, I just like being with you.'

'I like being with you too.'

'But more than that,' he insisted. He frowned, trying to discern what it was he was trying to tell her. 'I like you a lot, and – no, more than that. I kind of, you know…'

'What?'

He sighed, feeling his cheeks reddening somewhat. 'You know. Love you or – or something.'

She straightened up to look at his squarely in the eye. 'You love me?'

He nodded.

Mei considered this for sometime, before she kissed him again. 'I love you too.'

'Really?'

' _Yes,_ Albus.'

Laughing, he kissed her again, and she kissed him back, lacing her fingers through his hair. He suddenly wished very much that instead of opting to go for a walk they had instead gone upstairs to either of their dormitories. He wanted to tell Mei this, but telling her would mean he would need to stop kissing her, and he didn't want to do that.

The sound of footsteps finally made him relent. He spun around, expecting to see Goyle and Rosier returning, but instead he found the tall lean figure of Professor Karim peering at them over the dittany bushes.

Mei practically pushed Albus off of the fountain's edge in her attempt to extricate herself from him. She jumped to her feet, straightening her dress, and saying breathlessly, 'I – Professor – we were just…'

'I'm sorry to interrupt, Ms Zhao,' said Professor Karim. There was a briskness in her voice that told Albus she had more pressing matters to deal with than the compromising situation she had just discovered the two students in. 'I'm going to need all the prefects to escort the students back to their common rooms until further notice.'

At this, Albus too got to his feet. 'What's happened? Is – is someone hurt?'

'I can't tell you as I don't know,' Professor Karim told him. 'Professor Sinistra only said she needs the students back in their common rooms as quickly as possible. That includes yourself, Mr Potter.'

* * *

Wrangling a hundred Gryffindors into returning to their common room on a Saturday afternoon was about as easy a prospect as it sounds. It was for this reason that Rose left most of the duty to the other prefects.

After shepherding a few panicky first-years back to their dormitory, she deemed that her portion of the task was seemingly complete. Albus had gone to his dormitory after his date with Mei had been cut short, and Chandra was napping upstairs after an evening out with Connor. With nobody else to entertain her, Rose settled herself down in the corner of the common room with her book.

A good half hour after the rest of the Gryffindors had been accounted for, the portrait hole was thrown open to permit James and Finlay into the room. They were each holding a slab of ale over their shoulders and, finding the common room far more crowded than they had been anticipating, looked around for somebody to offer an explanation. Seeing Rose sitting along, they crossed the room to join her.

'Hullo, Rosie,' said James.

'Hello,' said Rose. 'Where have you two been?'

'Getting supplies for this evening. We have dates we need to impress.'

They each set their slab of ale down on the ground and James tore his open. He pulled out a bottle each for himself and Finlay. With all other seats occupied by the babbling students, the two seventh years dropped down on either side of her, squeezing themselves into her arm chair.

James took a swig of beer and gestured to the swarm of students occupying the common room. 'So, who died?'

Rose managed to extricate herself from between them and sat herself down on the rug at their feet. 'Nobody that I know of. We were told we had to get all the students back into the common room and then to meet at the prefects' office at five.'

Finlay raised his eyebrows. 'Exciting.'

'Very,' concurred Rose.

'Got to hope it's not one of our parents, don't you?' chortled James.

'I doubt they'd send me out to round up students if it was,' said Rose.

'Good point. Where's your entourage?'

'My entourage?'

'Ducky and Chandra.'

'Chandra's still asleep. She was out all night with Davies. And Albus went to his dormitory after he got back from seeing Mei.'

'Gross,' said James. 'Don't worry, Rosie, you'll find someone who can deal with you one day.'

'Thank you, James.'

As is to compensate for James's lack of manners, Finlay reached into the cask of ale and withdrew a bottle of ale, offering it to Rose. 'Rosie, have a drink.'

Rose didn't protest, and took the offered ale, uncapping it with a tap of her wand and drinking deeply.

'This is awful,' she told them.

'Well, excuse us,' said James. 'We're not made of money.'

'How'd you get out of the castle?' she asked them. 'I heard the passageway on the third floor got closed up.'

'Oh, we have our ways,' said James sagely.

Rose didn't inquire further, sipping her ale. Her lack of inquiring was apparently insufficient, as it seemed James wanted to recount the story for somebody, and so he proceeded to detail for her their gruelling excavation of the passageway.

She found herself drinking rather quickly, and when James had finished her story she asked for another bottle of ale, which they obligingly gave her.

'I wish I was seventeen,' she said to them as she drank.

'Not long to go,' Finlay assured her. 'It's not all it's cracked up to be. You have to start thinking about, like… your future and shit.'

'Do you know what you'll do after you finish?' she asked him.

'I don't know,' mused Finlay, tapping his bottle of ale with his fingers. He seemed unable to look either of them in the eye when he said, 'I was thinking of, you know… the Auror Office or something.'

Rose raised her eyebrows. 'The Auror Office?'

'Yeah.'

'You mean, becoming an auror or…'

'Yeah, an auror.'

'Oh,' said Rose. She didn't have anything else to say, so she sipped her beer.

'Just tell him he's an idiot,' grumbled James. 'Go on, tell him.'

Rose hesitated, before saying resolutely, 'You're an idiot.'

Finlay gave a grim smile. 'Yeah, well. We all need to make money somehow.'

'But you don't _need_ to be an auror,' said Rose.

Finlay didn't seem perturbed by her admonishment, but he did seem to want to offer some sort of justification, for he continued. 'I just… you know. I feel like it would be shitty of me not to. After our parents fought in a war, for us to just do nothing.'

'They did that so we wouldn't have to though,' said Rose.

Finlay shrugged and sipped his beer. 'I suppose.'

James gave his hands a sharp clap. 'Alright, enough of this serious shit. Rose, tell me. How do you plan to put an end to Albus and Mei Zhao?'

Two ales down, Rose found it a lot easier to laugh at James's jokes. 'I don't know. Arson, perhaps.'

'Oh, but they're cute,' cooed Finlay. 'You guys are just heartless.'

'And now he's friends with Malfoy,' said James. 'What are we going to do with him?'

'Now _that_ I don't approve of,' concurred Finlay.

Rose nodded and drained the last of her second beer. 'Who are your dates with?'

'Anadia Indra,' said Finlay.

'Either Lydia or Corrina,' said James.

'You don't know yet?' Rose asked him.

'I like to keep my options open. Lydia talks too much, but Corrina is impossible to get away from. Though I suppose seeming we can't leave the common room it will have to be Corrina.' James glanced at his watch. 'Speaking of which, it's five o'clock. Rosie's running late.'

Rose grabbed James's hand to see his watch for herself. She gave a groan. 'Shit.'

'Lucy won't be happy with you,' James chortled.

'Lucy detests me at the best of times,' said Rose, snatching up a third bottle of ale from the slab. 'I'm taking this for the road.'

'Our thoughts and prayers are with you,' said Finlay.

'Appreciate it,' replied Rose. 'Don't be dicks tonight.'

She climbed out of the portrait hole with her ale in hand. She nursed it as she traversed through corridors. The sun hadn't yet set, and it was strange to see the corridors so devoid of students.

It was a lot easier to tell herself nothing was serious when she had drunk three bottles of ale. As she walked, she became more and more convinced there was no cause for alarm and that, like her parents, the head mistress was merely paranoid.

When she arrived at the prefects' office, she vanished her empty bottle of ale with a flick of her wand. She paused before the door, straightening her skirt and brushing her hair from her face in the hope of looking presentable.

'You're late.'

She glanced over her shoulder. Scorpius Malfoy was striding towards her with his hands in his pockets. He looked just as unimpressed about being called to a prefect meeting on a Saturday afternoon as she was feeling.

'Ditto,' she said.

They hadn't spoken to each other since their prefect patrol several days ago. She took in the sight of him; his blue and silver prefects' badge sitting askew, his dragon hide school shoes, his shoulder length hair that was nearly as long as her own.

She remembered, quite distantly, that after leaving prefect duty the other night she had been feeling substantially less irked by the thought of him. She tried to force herself to remember that new found ambivalence, for at that moment her feelings of distaste for him had resurfaced.

'Suppose we should go inside,' he said to her.

'Suppose so,' she replied.

Though they were in consensus, it seemed neither of them were willing to action the agreement.

He leant against the wall, plunging his hands into his pockets. 'What do you reckon this is about?'

She too settled herself against the wall and shut her eyes. 'No idea.'

'Have a good Valentine's Day?'

She gave a sharp laugh. 'Do you want me to confirm for you that I had no plans whatsoever?'

'It's okay, I don't need that confirmed. I presumed as much. I had a great day, thank you for asking.'

'Did you and Zaina go kick some puppies?'

'How'd you know?'

'And hex some Muggle-borns?'

She heard Scorpius sigh and she looked at him.

'Do you ever get tired of picking a fight?' he asked.

'You were just mocking me for being single. Am I not supposed to say anything back?'

'I didn't _mock_ you. It was an innocent question. If being single bothers you so much then lower your standards.'

At the sound of the door opening, both Rose and Scorpius straightened up. Neville was standing in the doorway, looking strained.

'We've been waiting for you two,' he informed them.

'We forgot the password,' said Scorpius.

Sighing, Neville stepped aside to allow them to enter. 'You might like to try knocking next time.'

They were the last of the prefects to arrive. The others were all sitting around their house tables, Mei Zhao and Zaina Faheem glaring at the two new comers. At the front of the room Lucy and the head boy were standing with Professor Sinistra and the other three heads of house: Professor Karim, Professor Smith, and Professor Fancourt.

As Scorpius hurried over to the Ravenclaw table and she to the Gryffindor, Neville shut the door after him and re-joined his colleagues at the front of the room.

Professor Sinistra drew a steadying breath, gazing out at the prefects, before she said evenly. 'To begin, I just want to assure you all that we are in no danger – nobody has been injured, and the school is very secure.'

There was a murmur of speculation from around the prefects, and Sinistra raised her hand, calling for silence. 'And,' she continued, 'I'd like to thank you all for your timely efforts escorting your fellow students back to their common rooms. I can confirm everybody has been accounted for.'

'Excuse me, Professor?' said Hamish Coote, thrusting his hand uncertainly into the air. 'I'm sorry, but… I just don't really get what we're doing here.'

'The head mistress is going to explain, Coote,' snapped Professor Smith, but Sinistra once again held up her hand for silence.

'Of course, Mr Coote,' said the head mistress evenly. 'Now, once again, there is no cause for alarm, but we've had it confirmed that earlier today there was an attempt by intruders to penetrate the protective charms around the school.'

This time, the head mistress allowed no time for the prefects to react, and she continued briskly over their murmurs of surprise. 'Now, you need to know that this attempt was unsuccessful. The school has very powerful wards, and the Auror Office was on the scene within minutes. However, the suspects are still at large and the Ministry has confirmed that they have received contact from the Reclamation Army claiming responsibility for the attack.

'Now, as this only occurred a few hours ago, we are of course still assessing the situation. But I can confirm for you now that until further notice, the Ministry will be stationing a permanent auror presence at the school. This means that prefect patrol will be postponed to be replaced by aurors, and a new set of rules will be introduced for students to follow.'

At this news, Rose breathed a sigh of relief: _no more prefect duty_. She glanced across the room towards the Ravenclaw table and met Scorpius's eye. Beneath the table, he raised a hand to give her a thumbs-up.

Professor Sinistra proceeded to recount for them the new school rules that they were to relay to their house-mates in the common room; curfew would now begin two hours earlier at eight o'clock, teachers would be escorting students to and from classes, and all Hogsmeade visits would be postponed. This last point sparked a wave of protests from around the room.

'Quiet, all of you,' ordered Professor Sinistra. 'This is no time for whining. You are prefects, and it is your duty to have the safety of yourselves and your fellow students as your first priority. Now, these rules are to be implemented immediately, and as we assess the situation we may be introducing more. It is your responsibility to assist your professors in helping other students understand the importance of these new rules. Is that clear?'

From around the room, unhappy students were glaring back at their head mistress.

Sinistra passed her eyes over the room, and said more forcefully, ' _Is that clear?_ '

There was a murmur of consent from amongst the prefects and Sinistra nodded, satisfied. 'Good. Myself and your heads of house now need to confer with the Auror Office, and so I trust that all of you will inform your house-mates of the situation. Now, if you could please get into pairs with your patrol partner and stand sentry until the aurors are able to relieve of your position for the evening.'

The head mistress waved her wand. On the chalkboard, a list of names appeared with their designated location. She and Scorpius had been assigned to the west exit.

There was a collective scuffle of chairs against floorboards as the prefects got to their feet, convening with the patrol partner. She waited by the door as Scorpius trudged over to meet her and they left the room, starting along the corridor towards the west exit.

'Did you know about this?' he asked her in an undertone. 'Has your dad told you anything?'

She rolled her eyes. 'My dad would never tell me anything about this. I found out all that just as you did.'

Scorpius sighed, disappointed. 'So, after all that our Hogsmeade visits are cancelled anyway.'

'I know. The Reclamation Army has really crossed a line now.

'Well, who needs Hogsmeade anyway?'

'Exactly,' she said. 'I can go to a village whenever I want.'

'Yeah, who cares, I mean… What even is Hogsmeade? It's in Scotland, right?'

She rolled her eyes to stop herself from laughing. 'You're _too_ funny.'

'You started it.'

'It's run its course, I'm afraid.'

'Just like our obligation to be civil with each other.'

'Yes, and we've done so well,' she mused dryly.

'Hey, we've done alright the last few days.'

'We haven't spoken in three days.'

'Yeah, well… We were managing the other night, don't you think?'

'I suppose.'

They reached the oak doors of the west exit. She was feeling somewhat drained of energy, and sat down on the floor of the corridor and leant against the wall, hugging her knees to herself. Scorpius dawdled at the door, standing with his hands in his pockets once more.

'I hope these aurors hurry up,' sighed Rose. 'I want to sleep.'

'Yeah, I meant to ask – have you been drinking or something?'

She frowned at him. 'Why do you ask?'

'You're just – I don't know. Not as shitty as you usually are.'

'My cousin gave me some ale.'

'Ah, thought so.' Scorpius glanced at his watch, before sinking down onto the ground, folding his arms over his chest. 'What do you think the Reclamation Army wants to get into the school for, anyway?

'Who knows? Your dragon hide shoes, perhaps?'

'Will you ever let that go?'

'Well, I don't expect we'll ever need to speak to each other again, so don't worry about it.'

'You're probably right.'

They sat in silence, Rose resting her head against her knees while Scorpius stared at his shoes in contemplation.

Several minutes passed, before she heard Scorpius say, 'Look, Weasley, can I ask you something?'

She turned her dark eyes to meet his. Guardedly, she said, 'Maybe.'

'Just out of interest, why do you… I mean, why do you seem to care so little about what happens at the Ministry?'

'What do you mean?'

'You throw around these kind of grandiose accusations, reminding me what my dad was, but when Albus asked you to come with us to find out what the Slytherins were doing, I mean… Why were you so reluctant?'

'I knew it wouldn't get you anywhere,' said Rose simply.

'How could you know that, though? How could you not want to know what was really going on?'

'I just don't want to be involved,' she told him. 'It's not my job to try to do what the aurors are supposed to be doing. If the Ministry can't protect people then I don't think I can either.'

'But if you could help, don't you think you ought to try? I mean, you say you don't want Rowle to be in power but…'

'But I don't want to get myself into something I can't get out of,' she informed him. 'My parents are – they're strange people, and they are that way because they didn't grow up the way normal people do. They're paranoid and guarded and – and I don't want to be like that. I'm not interested in fighting in a war.'

'Well, neither am I,' he said. 'But I mean… you just… Look, I don't know. I don't get it.'

'No, you don't get it. So don't bother trying to figure it out.'

'Is that why you don't like talking about your parents?'

'What do you mean?'

'When I mentioned meeting with you dad, and you said that you didn't want to talk about it.'

'I don't like hearing about Ministry stuff.'

'But you must be used to it, I mean, with your mum being the head of the DMLE and you dad having worked as an auror for so long.'

'My parents tell me nothing about their work,' she said. 'All my life, they've been like that. They don't want to tell me about it, as if they think that if they don't tell me I'll never hear about what happened during the war. And that's wrong, of course – of course I know about it. All their not telling me does is – is make me angry with them. Before I came to school I had no idea how many books had been written about them. I mean, there's a whole section of the library about the Second Wizarding War.'

'They never talked to you about what happened to them?'

'I mean, it wasn't like they had never told me there was a war. I knew there was a war in the nineties, and I knew they helped the Ministry, but I never really knew… I mean, the way the told it was as if it was a few weeks of tension. And then I arrived at school, and for the first time I was out around witches and wizards without my parents being able to explain away why people stare at us. So I started reading about the war, and about my parents and what they did and they just… they just didn't _tell me_. And even now – I'm seventeen in October and I had to find out my dad was working for the Auror Office from the _Daily Prophet_.'

Frowning, he asked her, 'Your dad didn't tell you why he was going back?'

'If I hadn't read his biography I wouldn't have even known he was an auror,' she said. 'He's never mentioned it.'

'What, never?'

'Never.'

'That's bizarre.'

It seemed she had found something they could agree on. 'Yes, it is.'

There was another silence, and when he spoke again his voice had changed. It wasn't the teasing drawl he used with her, but something more authentic. 'Look. I know it's not really the same, but my parents are similar. They're not very honest with me.'

'Yes,' she said, 'but that's not that weird. I wouldn't want people knowing I was a Death Eater either.'

'Why do you do that?'

She glanced at him to find him watching her with sharp, grey eyes. 'Do what?' she asked.

'Wait until I'm not expecting and then remind me that my dad was a Death Eater. I _know_ he was a Death Eater. You don't need to remind me.'

She found herself surprised by this. He hadn't sound angry - more exasperated. 'Does it honestly bother you that much?' she asked him.

'What?'

'Being reminded of what your dad did during the war.'

'It wouldn't bother you?'

'Well, I wouldn't know. My parents weren't Death Eaters.'

He gave a low, growling sigh. 'See, it's that – _things like that_. You prove over and over again that you have no interest to standing up to blood supremacists, and yet you jump at any chance you get to throw my dad in my face. I don't like him anymore than you do, alright?'

Rose was silent again, before she said slowly, 'Alright. Go on about how hard your life is.'

'I didn't say my life was hard. I just meant that my parents – they keep things from me too. I mean… I mean my mum's always been kind of – she's never had the best health in the world.

He paused to clear his throat, and she could see his Adam's apple bob beneath his pale skin. In the darkness beneath the flickering torches, his hollow cheekbones cast shadows over the side of his face.

'And I mean – I mean she's _fine_ ,' he continued, 'but she had a miscarriage in August and it kind of – affected her.'

When he said the word _miscarriage_ , Rose sat up to look at him. It was strange to hear him speak like that – uncertain and hesitant and unable to look her in the eye. She didn't have anything of use to say, and so she sufficed to say nothing.

'And then when I went home for Christmas she told she was pregnant again and I just – I just wish she had told me in advance. I just wish I had known what to expect. So, yeah,' he continued, 'I guess I know what you mean.'

She wracked her brain for a response and settled upon the pointless, pitiful utterance of, 'That must be hard.'

'Yeah, I suppose.'

The sound of footsteps echoing along the corridor caused them both to start. They jumped to their feet in time to see Professor Fancourt leading two aurors along the corridor to meet them. Professor Fancourt dismissed the two prefects and turned back to the aurors to begin discussing security wards.

She and Scorpius walked in silence towards the staircase. Rose felt that anything she could have said in the wake of what he had just told her would be somehow hollow.

She tried to remember what it was she had been telling him before he told her about his mother, but the ale made it hard to remember what it was, or why she had said it at all. It had been so many things – _so much bullshit_ – about her parents and her frustration and her childishness.

And then he had told her something real – _something awful_ – and she had said nothing. It confirmed for her what she already knew (that she wasn't a good person) and suggested to her something she had never considered until now: perhaps, in some diminutive, stunted, contrived way, Scorpius Malfoy _was_ a good person.

'This is you, right?'

She had been so immersed in her thoughts that she was surprised to hear his voice. She glanced at him to find him gesturing up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower.

'Oh, yeah… I forgot where I was going.'

Scorpius smirked. 'You need to sober up, Weasley.'

'I think I should go to sleep.'

'Yeah, you look pretty bad.

'Thanks.' She tried to meet his eye, but found it difficult, and so settled upon staring at the stain glass window behind him. 'Well, I'll see you.'

'Yeah, see you,' he said. 'And, you know… if you ever need help with geography you know who to ask.'

'Thank you. If you ever need to trick people into think you're intelligent, I have lots of Muggle books you can pretend to read.'

He laughed, before raising a pale hand in farewell. 'Sleep well.'

'You, too.'

She was relieved to turn away, starting up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, but she had only made it a few steps up before he called her back.

'Hey, wait, Weasley…'

She glanced back over her shoulder. 'Yes?'

He was looking up at her with a kind of half smile. He seemed unaware what to do with his hands, trying to straighten the sleeves of his sweater. When he spoke, it was in the same uneasy voice he had used as they had sat on the floor at the west exit.

'What I told you, about my mum being sick… I just… I don't know why I told you that.'

She couldn't stop herself from frowning. 'Okay.'

'I just… it was a stupid thing to bring up. The only people who know about it are Al and Zaina and... I don't really want people finding out. I just, I mean... I guess I thought because you were talking about your parents…'

'I'm not going to tell anybody if that's what you mean,' said Rose.

He raised his eyebrows. He seemed genuinely surprised by this. 'Oh. Right, well… I appreciate that.'

There was another silence, in which neither of them looked at each other.

He broke the silence to say, 'I guess it's actually true, isn't it? Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.'

'Very profound, Malfoy.'

'Thanks. It's Shakespeare, you know?'

Rose sighed to stop herself from laughing. 'Goodnight,' she said tiredly.

'That was a joke,' he informed her.

'Yes, it was very funny. Goodbye.'

'I'm kidding. I know it was Orwell.'

' _Goodbye,_ Malfoy.'

He was laughing. 'Goodbye.'

And once again they turned away and strode away from each other.

* * *

 **Song credit:** **_Harlequin Dream_ by Boy  & Bear.**

 **A/N: Did someone say mumblecore?**

 **This chapter is ridiculously long and like... not much happened. If you made it this far so much for reading!**

 **If you have any thoughts please let me know in a review, I will love you forever! x**


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